


Maker's Breath

by KatieBethBug



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Origins, Dragon Age: Origins - Awakening
Genre: Alistair takes Eda's last name, But they definitely acknowledge that the Chantry has done bad things, Eda and Alistair are good Chantry folk, Eda is an Anders apologist (lbr she gets it and so do I), F/M, Grey Warden Alistair, I tried to be medically accurate, Infertility, Jealousy, Miscarriage, Not super graphic but like a little graphic birth scenes, Pregnancy, Some stuff isn't exactly canon compliant because I didn't play DAI before I started writing this, Super happy long-term established relationship, birth scenes in later chapters, but some stuff is definitely explained away with magic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-18
Updated: 2020-06-04
Packaged: 2021-03-03 04:29:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 28
Words: 42,012
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24258934
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KatieBethBug/pseuds/KatieBethBug
Summary: When Eda Amell left Kinloch Hold at 21, she never expected what she would fall into. Danger, Diplomacy, Love, and Loss all plagued Eda before her 22nd birthday. With all but the very beginning of the story taking place after the end of Dragon Age: Origins, follow Eda's relationship with Alistair. The pair face many hardships as they age including their quest for a child, search for a cure to the Calling, and reunite with long-lost family. The first few chapters are super short, but, trust me, they get pretty intense later on.
Relationships: Alistair/Female Amell (Dragon Age), Alistair/Female Warden (Dragon Age), Anders/Female Hawke, Female Amell & Female Hawke (Dragon Age), Nathaniel Howe/Velanna
Comments: 2
Kudos: 10
Collections: The Maker's Breath Canon Universe





	1. Year 0

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [We Were Heroes](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24256582) by [huesofmay](https://archiveofourown.org/users/huesofmay/pseuds/huesofmay). 



> Thanks to my dear friend, huesofmay, for inspiring this work with her sad headcanons about Hawke. Once we realized that Amell and Hawke are cousins, I got started on this monstrosity of a work. It's been in the works for about two years, as I've just been working on it off and on. I hope that posting it will finally give me the drive to finish it! There is a natural cut off point that I may leave it at for a while, but I am intending to continue it. Check out huesofmay's work We Were Heroes to see this story (or at least some parts of it) from her Hawke's point of view!

She’s hurtling down the path, tears prickling at amber eyes. He’s laying on the ground, covered in blood – his own and that of the darkspawn they’ve been fighting. Wynne is slowly getting to her feet behind Eda, and Shale is wiping blood off her sparkling purple crystals, but all Eda can see is the man paling on the ground in front of her. She kneels, pulling his head into her lap and pats his face lightly, pressing some of her healing magic into him. He comes to, and she breathes a sigh of relief. His eyes meet hers, “Maker! I was so worried.” She runs her fingers through his hair and babbles, “We were out of mana, and there was no more lyrium. I’m sorry. Sorry, sorry, sorry, sorr-!” He cuts her off with a kiss.

“It’s okay, Eda,” Alistair says as he breaks the chaste kiss. “We’re both still alive.” He pauses and stares up into her eyes, “Maker, you are beautiful.” She beams and blushes softly.

She gently moves his head from her and takes his hand, attempting to pull up the warrior, “Come on. Let’s get to camp. Then you can rest better.”


	2. Year 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We're still in DAO time. Just two more chapters until we enter my own crazy timeline.

It’s dark in camp that night, no moon in the sky, the stars obscured with dark clouds. And that’s exactly what she’s feeling inside. He loves her, that much is true, but Wynne’s right. If he must be king, he’ll need a queen, an heir. She can neither rule beside him because of her magic or give him a child – not from what he’s told her about the taint in their blood. She sits in the dark tent, bedroll around her legs and otherwise unclothed, crossing her arms over her chest.

“What is it, love?” Alistair asks, sitting up to kiss her shoulder. She doesn’t turn to face him, the man she loves so dearly.

“Wynne is right,” Eda says, attempting to keep the tears out of her voice.

He chuckles low and kisses her shoulder again, “She usually is. What about it?” Her head drops lower, coming to rest on her crossed arms.

“She said that it's unwise for us to continue. If you’re going to be king, then- “

He wraps his arm around her and pulls her close, “I’m _not_ going to be king. You know I’m not cut out for that. Eda,” he turns her to face him, a hand on her chin, “there is nothing short of death that is going to stop me from being with you. You’re the first woman I fell in love with, the first woman I spent the night with, and as long as you’ll allow it, I want you to be the last.”

She smiles, lips still quivering, “I love you too, Alistair, but what happens when this is over? If we’re both still standing? If you’re not going to rule, who will?”

“Cailan’s widow, Anora? Arl Eamon? Andraste, maybe it’ll be Bann Teagan! I don’t know, and I don’t care. We can leave Ferelden for all I care. I just want to be with you,” she beams, “have a family!” her smile drops.

“But what if we can’t? Have a family? You said that you never knew of any wardens who had children after joining. Something about the taint impeding fertility?” she worries her thin hair into a small braid, not able to look him in the eye.

He brushes his large calloused hand across her cheek, clearing the tears beginning to streak down, “That’s not really what I meant. I’d love to have children with you, but I meant a nice little house with just you and me and about six mabari.” She giggles. “Six mabari and a cat. You said you liked the cats when you were in the Circle, right?”

Her smile drops from amused to endeared, “You know I love you, don’t you? Because I love you so much.”

He pecks at her lips, “I love you too, Eda, so, so much.”


	3. Year 2

“Aaaand there we go!” she says with a smile, pinning the badge onto Nathaniel, “You’re the Commander of the Grey now.” He smiles solemnly as the small crowd of wardens and nobility applaud behind them. Everything has been quiet in Amaranthine since the destruction of the Mother, and Eda is not cut out for the politics that come with being the commander and Arlessa, by extension. Nate, though, is a good boy. Bred to be Arl of Amaranthine one day, none of the wardens are more fit for the job. And what kind of life could she have with Alistair if she is having to lead an order _and_ an arling anyway?

Nate turns and bows to his audience. Oghren roars loudly, holding his tankard high to toast the new commander. Velanna applauds quietly, a tiny smile pulling at the corners of her lips. Justice stands, ever the vigil, steely dead eyes assessing Nate’s abilities as he claps and nods his head. Anders wolf-whistles. From the back, a pair of mail-clad hands raise to clap for Nathaniel. The owner of the hands calls out in celebration, but nothing as uproarious as Oghren’s yelling. Eda beams and runs into the crowd toward the voice of her husband. When she finds him, she’s on him in an instant.

Alistair lifts his wife into his arms and twirls her around, their lips locked together. They stay like this for a moment, before he sets her back on the ground and pulls back from the kiss, “Oh, Maker, it has been too long since I’ve seen you.”

She trails her hand along his jawline, “It has. It really has. Let’s congratulate Nate and go upstairs. I’ve missed you.” He leans down to peck her lips once more, and they move to join the crowd beginning to flock around the new commander. They wind up right behind Anders, who turns to grin at them.

“Well, well, Eda, this must be your lovely husband,” he says, giving Alistair a once over. Alistair shifts uncomfortably.

She swats at his shoulder, “Stop it, you flirt! But yes, this is him.” She turns to her husband, “Alistair, this is Anders.” The men shake hands civilly despite Anders’ wandering eyes. “He’s saved my life more times than I can count.”

“And she mine.”

Alistair beams at the other man, “Then you have my eternal thanks. I couldn’t go on without her.” She clasps his hand in hers tightly. They step up, and Anders reaches Nate. He throws his arm around his stiff compatriot and plants a kiss on his cheek. Nathaniel scrunches his nose up slightly and pats Anders on the back, glancing back over to Velanna, who is glaring daggers into the mage’s back. Alistair chuckles, “What’s going on with those three?”

“Less than it looks like. I’ll tell you later,” Eda says with a smile.

Finally, they reach their new Warden Commander. Alistair shakes his hand, “You must be quite something for my wife to put you in charge.”

Nate blushes at the compliment, as if his cheeks weren’t red enough from the scene that had just transpired, “You must be Alistair. I’ve heard so much about you.”

“Has he?” Alistair asks, raising an amused eyebrow at Eda.

“Of course,” she says with a grin. “Well, congratulations again, Nate. We’ll probably be leaving Vigil’s Keep in a couple of days. Feel free to ask me anything before we leave, but you’d probably have more luck with Varel. But for tonight, enjoy it. And we’ll be upstairs if its anything dire. If not…” Alistair shrugs and grins back at Nate as Eda leads him away, up the stairs to her room in the keep.

The second the door shut, Eda begins pulling off her shoes and taking down her braids, placing her pearl beads into the small dish on her vanity. “Eda?” Alistair questions.

“Yes?”

“You’re not usually the one to immediately get comfortable as soon as the door is shut. Or have I really missed that much,” he says with a sad smile, beginning to kick off his boots and unbuckle his armour too.

“Oh,” she turns from the vanity and puts her hand to his cheek, “Not too much. It’s just been a long day. You know, with all of the visiting nobles and new recruits and the preparation for the ceremony. Not to mention I’m not used to wearing these long dresses, well, not for a couple of years.” She picks at the deep blue fabric swathed around her waist.

He smiles, dropping his breastplate to the floor, “Well, you look lovely. It is beautiful on you, but then again, everything is beautiful on you.”

She laughs softly, “Thank you. What do you want to do tonight? It really has been so long.”

“Tonight?” he asks, running his fingers through her hair, “Tonight I just want to hold you and never let you go. I don’t ever want to be away from you again.”

“Me either,” she says, leaning up into a kiss.


	4. Year 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Now we can get into my nonsense.

She wakes up to blood in the morning and the disappointment hits again. Not like it was late or she had any reason to think it wouldn’t come, but it was more of a wish than anything. She shakes him awake lightly, “Alistair, c’mon, get up, I’ve got to wash the sheets.” He mumbles a good morning and scrubs at his eyes. As he climbs out of bed, she notices blood on his backside, “Oh, Maker, I’ve gotten blood on you too.”

He laughs lightly, “Don’t worry about it, Eda. We can go bathe in the lake while you let the sheet soak. Do you feel okay though?”

She smiles at him, “We’ve been married for two years, Alistair. It’s not like this doesn’t happen every month.”

“I know, but I just want to make sure you’re okay. You always seem so sad when you wake up bleeding,” he says brushing her hair back from her forehead and pressing a kiss there.

“It’s because I know we haven’t…” she presses a hand to her stomach. He wraps his arms around her, holding her close, letting her tears drip onto his shoulder.

Alistair runs his fingers through her hair, “One day, Eda. We’ll have a little one. I promise. It’ll just take time. It’s only been two years. It takes that long for some people who aren’t tainted. We’ll have one, Eda, I’m sure.” Cupping the back of her head, he pulls her up to look her in the eye. He presses a kiss to her lips and then lets their foreheads rest together, “Now let’s get cleaned up. There’s nothing we can do to stop it this month.”


	5. Year 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some letters for your reading pleasure!

_Dear Cousin Freddie,_

_It’s Eda. I heard you were living in Kirkwall, and I thought I would send you a letter. It’s been years! I know we really lost touch when I was sent to the Circle, but I was hoping we could meet again and get re-acquainted. I got a letter from the current Warden-Commander that your little sister Bethany had joined us in Ferelden. I didn’t know she was a mage! I’m going to drop by Vigil’s Keep in a couple of weeks to see her, so I’ll tell you how that went in a subsequent letter._

_Hoping this finds you well,_

_Eda Amell_

**Dear Eda,**

**It’s great to hear from you. It has been a long time. I miss my little cousin! What are you up to? I heard YOU were the Warden-Commander, what happened? Yep, Bethany’s a mage and a Grey Warden now. I miss her, but I guess she’s happy defending Ferelden from darkspawn. Do tell me how she was when you next write.**

**Love you,**

**Freddie Hawke**

_My Dearest Freddie,_

_I met with Bethany today at Vigil’s Keep. She is absolutely thriving. Not to mention the fact that she seems to have caught the eye of the commander, Nathaniel Howe. She is lovely, much to my dear friend Velanna’s vexation. (She fancies Nate but won’t tell him because she’s too stubborn.) It was so good to see another Amell mage. But I heard about your brother, Carver. I’m sorry. I don’t remember ever meeting him, but if I did he was but a babe._

_I’m doing well. My husband and I are traveling around Ferelden, looking for a cure to what we call “the Calling”. I remember a dog back in Ostagar that was cured of his taint with a wildflower called Andraste’s Grace. I don’t think just a simple flower would cure us of it, but we’ve had a couple of tip-offs about how to increase the potency of it._

_What about your life? What are you up to in Kirkwall? Apparently, that’s where our family is from. Do you live in the Amell estate there? Or are you not treated as nobility since you were technically a refugee from Ferelden?_

_Yours Always,_

_Eda Amell_

**Dear Eda,**

**I’m glad to hear that Bethany is doing well. Sometimes I think she’s lying to me about having a good time with the wardens. But to hear that she’s caught the eye of the commander… Nice work little sister. Please do keep me updated on their relationship because I doubt Bethany will tell me if she starts seeing anyone. Don’t worry too much about Carver’s death. Sure, he was my brother, but he was a dick. Plus, it’s been 3 years.**

**I’m glad you’re doing well. I didn’t know you were married. What’s his name??? My little cousin, stuck in the Circle for 11 years. And now she’s married. Wow. What about kids? Are you planning on it, or not interested? I mean, I’m not. Not like I get much of a chance recently. There is this cute mage I’ve been traveling with, but I haven’t been able to get him into my bed yet. Working on it.**

**Good luck on finding the cure! I don’t know what this “Calling” is, but I hope you get cured. But, as for me, I’ve just been running errands, funding things. Just saving the whole city. And trying to FLIRT. But, yeah, I stay in the Amell estate. You’ll have to drop by if your search lands you in Kirkwall. I’ll introduce you to my friends. Plus, then I’d get to meet your husband. AND YOU!**

**Yours,**

**Freddie Hawke**

_Dear Freddie,_

_I’m glad to hear that you’re not too caught up with his death, but I did assume you’d be a little more perturbed. I know that if I had lost a sibling it would be devastating. But I don’t guess I ever had any. At least, I was an only child before I was sent to the Circle. And I was ten. I didn’t really get to have any contact with my parents after I was sent off. I wonder what happened to them…_

_No news from Bethany, but apparently one of my friends from the wardens ran off to Kirkwall and is running some sort of clinic there. It makes sense, he’s such a sweetheart but a MASSIVE flirt. I think you two would get along wonderfully._

_My husband’s name is Alistair. He’s another Grey Warden. He was actually there to assist me in my Joining. We were the only two in Ferelden during the Blight. And, the more we traveled together, the more we fell for each other. A couple of months after we slew the Archdemon, we got married. Just a little service in the Denerim Chantry, but it was perfect for us. We have a little house there, but since we’re mostly on the road, looking for the cure, we don’t really spend a lot of time at home._

_But as for your question about children, let me just go ahead and put this out there. Alistair and I desperately want to have a babe, but as we both have the taint in our blood, we’ve been told that it is highly unlikely that we will be able to have children. But it won’t be for lack of trying, if you know what I’m saying._

_Well, good luck with your cute mage. I hope you can bed him soon._

_Yours Truly,_

_Eda Amell_


	6. Year 5

“Alistair!” she cries, rushing into their little house in Denerim, “I’ve just gotten a letter from Nate! He’s getting married. We have to go to Vigil’s Keep.”

The knife slips from his hand on the wooden board at her outburst. “Mpff! Maker!” he grunts, pulling his thumb into his mouth to suck at the cut. “That’s great Eda,” he says around his thumb.

“Oh! Love!” she rushes over to him, hand on his in an instant, “I’m sorry. I should have given you a little warning.” Eda places a hand on his cheek, “Let me see it. I’ll fix it right up.”

With an overexaggerated pout, Alistair removes his thumb from between his lips, letting her watch as the short but deep cut drips blood down the digit. She pulls his hand to her, pressing her own lips to the small gash, sending a small bit of healing magic into it. Pulling it away from her lips with a light smack, she says, “There. All better. Sorry again.” She smiles sheepishly and wipes the bit of blood from her mouth.

“Perks of having a healer as my beautiful bride,” he says with a grin, wrapping her in his arms and looking her deeply in the eyes. He presses a soft kiss to her nose, “What was it you said? Nathaniel’s getting married?”

“Yes. Velanna. I’ll admit I’m a little sad it didn’t work out with him and Bethany. Because then he’d be my cousin. But I’m happy for the two of them. And not a bit surprised. They always did have a certain chemistry,” she says, wrapping her arms around his neck. She turns a bit in his arms, “So what were you working on? More stew?”

He laughs, “No, not tonight. Our dear neighbor just slaughtered one of his bigger hogs and didn’t really have enough salt to keep it, so he gave us a bit. I’m trying to just cook it through with some pepper.”

“Oh? In a pot over the fire or something else?” she asks.

“Well,” he says sheepishly, “I wasn’t quite sure about that. I’m probably just going to put it in a pot.”

“Like stew?”

“No, not like stew,” he says, a smirk crawling up his features. He taps her nose lightly, “No water or anything added to it. Just let it get hot in there.”

She laughs, “Well, all right. You’re the cook around here, not me. I guess I’ll just have to trust you.”

Alistair presses a soft kiss to his wife’s lips, “I guess you will, Mrs. Amell.”

“I guess I will, Mr. Amell.”


	7. Year 6

“Okay, now apprentices, you can ask the hero anything you want,” Petra says with a smile. A small elf girl’s arm shoots into the air. “Yes Yvia?”

“Miss Hero? What’s it like in the Fade?” the little blonde girl asks.

“Well,” Eda says, thinking, a finger pressed to her mouth, “It’s like when you dream, but it’s scary. It’s green. I hope you only have to go in during your Harrowing. But I’m sure that’s a long way off.” The little girl nods and smiles. Another hand shoots into the air.

This one belongs to an older boy, probably around sixteen. Petra gestures to him and he clears his throat.

“Mrs. Amell, how did you kill the archdemon?” he asks, voice cracking on the last syllable.

She takes a deep breath, “Okay. So, yes, I did deal the killing blow to the archdemon, but it was really my husband Alistair who did most of the fighting. I was knocked out early in the fight and was revived just in time to deal the final blow, so if you really want to know about the big fight, you’ll have to talk to him.” She turns to Petra, “You don’t mind if I bring him in here, do you?”

Petra smiles and shakes her head, “I’ll run out and grab him, just wait a second.” She hurries out of the library corner they’re clustered in to find Alistair. She doesn’t have to go far: Alistair is sitting outside of the library, reading to a tiny girl, an apprentice no older than six. She clears her throat lightly and they both jump.

“Oh! Petra! Is my Eda done?” he asks, not getting up or forcing the child out of his lap.

“Not yet. Someone asked about the archdemon fight, and she told them that you’d remember it better because you were conscious all of the fight where she wasn’t,” Petra says, leaning down to take the girl’s hand.

He holds a hand up, “Don’t worry about her. She and I have been having a great time, haven’t we, Saoirse?”

The girl nods, jumping up out of his lap, “Yes. Thank you, ser.” She stands there a bit awkwardly, looking to Petra for permission to run off.

“You don’t want to hear about how I killed a big, bad dragon?” Alistair asks, leaning in to catch her intrigue.

She shakes her head, “No thank you, ser. Dragons are scary.” Petra smiles and laughs under her breath.

“You’re free to go, Saoirse. Don’t be late for your lessons.”

“Yes ma’am,” she nods and races off toward the young apprentice quarters.

Petra offers a hand to Alistair, “Your wife seems to think these kids need a story about a great dragon slayer.”

He laughs, “Me? A great dragon slayer? Ha! I guess.” His ears begin to redden. Changing the subject, he asks, “Who do you think she thought I was? Saoirse, I mean? No one calls me “ser”.”

“She probably thought you were one of the templars. A new one, I guess. You look the part enough: the armour, the shield, you know,” Petra says as they walk back toward the corner of the library. She then turns to him with a smile, “You were really good with her. She’s really skittish; I was surprised to see her sitting with you. Do you and Eda have children?”

He shakes his head quickly, pulling a tight smile onto his lips, “No. We haven’t been able to. I keep telling her that we’ll have one someday, but it’s been five years, and we haven’t had any luck.”

Petra drops her voice as they approach the place where Eda is answering a couple of other questions, “I’m sorry. You must be devastated.”

“Not as much as she is. Sure, I love kids and would really like to be a father, but Eda’s the one who beats herself up over it,” he says, countenance dropping. “Well, I guess I’d better get in there and tell those kids about fighting a dragon, eh?”


	8. Year 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now it's time to get sad. Next chapter we finally make it to where huesofmay began her story.

She wakes up in a dry bed, Alistair’s arm wrapped around her waist. And she’s not hurting. But she should be. Eda yawns and wriggles around to face him. She curls into his chest, trying to keep herself in what must be a dream. Today she should be waking up in blood, if every other month has been any indication.

The next morning, she’s still not bleeding, and she’s wary. She goes about her day with a flannel in her smalls like she would if she were bleeding, but it's dry at the end of the day.

On the third day, her spirits start to lift. Maybe, just maybe. She still doesn’t tell Alistair, because if he gets excited, so will she, and it will just be worse for them both if she’s wrong.

Day four and Alistair has started inspecting the sheets after he gets up. “Eda, my love, I know this is a sensitive subject, but shouldn’t you be bleeding by now,” he asks that afternoon while she writes a letter to her cousin Freddie.

She bites at her quill, “Yes, I should. Four days ago, if I’m being precise.” She places the pen back down in the inkpot. Eda turns and sees the twinkle in her husband’s amber eyes, “I don’t know if it means anything yet. It’s way to early to know. I didn’t want to get our hopes up by telling you too soon.” He nods softly and comes closer to stand beside her where she sits at the small wooden desk. “Saying it makes it real,” she says quietly, voice breaking.

Day five Eda awakes to a tray of food being placed over her. “Good morning, my dear,” Alistair says, kissing her forehead, “How are you on this lovely day?”

She reaches down to pat the space of the bed between her legs and brings the hand up out of the covers; it’s dry, “I’m doing well.” She leans up to kiss him and brush some stray flour out of his stubble, “To what do I owe this pleasure?”

“Oh, maybe nothing,” he says, scratching the back of his head, a massive grin spreading across his face, “Maybe you’re carrying my child.”

“Alistair,” she smiles softly, caressing his jaw, “I can’t know for sure yet. I haven’t even been ill. I’ve heard that that is one of the first major signs of pregnancy.”

“Yes, well, so is missing your monthly, right?” he says, a bit of apprehension creeping into his voice. She nods and sits up against the headboard.

Taking his hand in hers, she says, “It is, but I don’t even know if I’ve missed it yet. It could just be late. This sort of thing happens. I missed monthlies all the time when I was younger. I rarely do now, but I know that there are many women who still do and confuse that for early pregnancy. I don’t want to get our hopes up too high only to have them crash back down if I start bleeding in a few days.”

But she doesn’t. And at the end of that week, they decide that its time to start really hoping and praying that they aren’t wrong.

Eda begins to get ill the next week, flinging herself out of bed before the sun rises and leaving the house while Alistair cooks. They take it as a good sign. Even when she’s sick in their back garden, he says she’s glowing, the most beautiful woman he’s ever seen. And she is. She sees it in the water when she goes to bathe and in the silver goblets at dinner with Nate and Velanna the week after. Their eyes twinkle when they look at each other as if they were newlyweds, not the couple that has been married for six years.

He holds her around the waist more gently and presses kisses to her belly, still flat and soft as it ever was. She smiles at him as he makes plans. What will they name the baby? Alistair is advocating for Duncan if it’s a boy, and Wynne if it’s a girl. Eda thinks it's still too early to think about if they’ll have a daughter or son, much less thinking of names. Where will the baby sleep? She laughs when he asks and says that they’ll find a cradle or have one built. Alistair sets out to find a carpenter to learn. “I’ve got about nine months to learn and get one built,” he says, and she just giggles.

“More like eight probably. We’ve already known for a month,” she says with a smile, bringing a hand up to rest on her stomach. He smiles and holds her close to kiss, “Hey! Go on and find one. I’m going to write to Freddie. I’m sure she’ll want to know.”

“Okay, okay,” he cries as she pushes him toward the door, “I’ll be back before you can say “Andraste’s tits”.”

“Alistair!” she cries in laughter as he leaves the house. Hand still on her flat stomach, she sits down at the desk and picks back up her quill,

_Dearest Freddie,_

_You won’t believe the news! After six years, Alistair and I are finally pregnant. I wanted to tell you sooner, but we’ve only known for a month now. I thought it must be too good to be true. I had almost given up. But we are going to have a child! He’s so excited, having just run out to go find a carpenter to learn how to make a cradle. That man. I don’t think he ever gave up hope._

_Well, enough about me. How are you? That mage boyfriend of yours, how is he doing? What was his name, I don’t think you ever told me? I heard about your mother. I’m sorry for your loss. I guess Bethany told you that she never really worked out with the commander. He ended up getting married to another warden (her name is Velanna) a couple of years back. Alistair and I had dinner with them last week. It was lovely._

_Well, I hope to hear more from you soon._

_Ever Yours,_

_Eda Amell_

She places the quill back into its ink and fans the parchment with her spare hand. Once it is dry, Eda folds the parchment into fourths and slides it into an envelope. She drips wax onto the fold and seals it with her ring with the crest of the Grey Wardens on it. As she stands to go fetch a messenger to send the letter to Kirkwall, something shifts and moistens her smalls.

Eda rushes back to their bedroom, quickly pulling off her skirt and smalls to see a few small drops of red, and her heart breaks. She lies down on the bed, unable to stop crying as her belly begins to cramp up and ache. Her normal pain, but so much worse this time for the hope she had. She crumples the letter still in her hand, the red wax catching under her fingernails, and tosses it to the floor.

A half-hour later, Alistair returns, flinging open the door, “I found a carpenter who lives near the Alienage. He’s willing to teach me and provide me with the wood if I can help him out with—" He waits for a second, sure he’s heard something, “Eda? Where are you? Is everything okay?”

A sob. “No,” comes a quiet voice from their bedroom. He steps with care, quiet and trying to make his large footsteps silent. Alistair opens the door slowly and immediately sees the blood spotted smalls on the floor and Eda laying curled around herself on the bed.

“Oh, Eda, my love,” he says softly, a lump caught in his throat, as he approaches her. He sits at the edge of the bed and runs his fingers through her light hair, “Oh, dear, you’re-,” his voice cracks, “You’re alright. You’re going to be alright.” He shushes her gently as he softly pulls her into his arms, cradling her as he leans back against the headboard. Her hands never leave her belly and the tears don’t leave her eyes at all until hours later when she’s fallen asleep against his chest. And now he’s been strong for too long and allows tear after tear to drip down his face, burying it in her hair. At some point he falls asleep too, with his hands resting over hers and salty trails down both of their faces.

In the morning, she tries to tell herself that the past month never happened. That it was all just some beautiful dream that ended in her waking up to her monthly. But the new flowers on the ground and new life everywhere but in her won’t allow her to pretend its still just winter’s end.


	9. Year 8 - Part 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Huesofmay, here we go!

It’s been about six months when she gets the letter.

**Dear Eda,**

**I’m pregnant. The father is dead. Please help.**

**Freddie**

So, she’s on a boat. Alistair and Eda are sailing to the Free Marches, to Kirkwall to help out with Freddie and her baby. She’s on a boat for a month hoping to reach her cousin that she hasn’t seen in more than fifteen years before her baby is born. From that letter, there is no way of knowing when Freddie found out or is due or anything, so Eda sails on. They reach the Free Marches right before the leaves begin to turn, and Eda is off the boat nearly before the crew can lower the gangplank.

Somewhere in the back of her mind, she can feel the pain creeping in. Freddie never wanted kids, and here she is with one. Eda wants them more than her heart can bear, but it's been seven months since they lost their babe, just long enough for her to have had it, she reminds herself bitterly, and she needs to be there for her cousin. But it feels like no time has passed at all since she wrote that letter that she never got to send. She presses a hand to the waist of her skirt where the letter rests, folded and wrinkled beyond belief, the red wax has long worn off and just a smooth, pink residue left there. And Freddie doesn’t even know. Alistair and the carpenter are the only other people who know. She’s heard it can help to tell what ills have befallen you but can never bring herself to tell anyone. Not Nate or Velanna, who have started their own journey toward the idea of little ones. Maybe her cousin will be different.

So, she springs off the gangplank and immediately asks for directions to the Amell estate. She’s corrected by the man: he says that it’s Hawke manor now. Now that the viscount is Winnifred Hawke, that is. It sounds silly to hear her cousin called that, having known her as Freddie all the time they knew each other as children. But she goes on to the estate, straight up to the front door, and knocks.

A well-dressed man greets her stiffly and asks who she might be and says that the “lady of the house” is busy. Eda replies that the “lady of the house” is her cousin and presents the broken seal on the envelope housing Freddie’s simple letter. He admits her and guides her up the stairs to a small corridor. Eda can hear a baby’s cry coming from within the room on the end, and she smiles as tears fill her eyes. She blinks them away quickly when the man opens the door to her and she sees the woman who must be her cousin.

Her hair is dark, longer than Eda’s, and pulled into a low ponytail. Her shoulders are broad, and her arms muscled, not at all like Eda’s own thin arms more used to wielding a staff than a sword. And cradled in those toned arms is an infant, no more than a week old. The baby is wailing loudly, and Eda can’t help but feel a pang of sorrow in her belly. She leans against the doorframe, sad smile adorning her face.

The creak of her shoulder against the wood of the door is enough to cause her cousin to jolt and whip around. Her face softens when she sees her, “Eda?”

“Hey Freddie,” she says, her smile beginning to grow into something more genuine. The babe in Hawke’s arms begins to quieten down, her dull grey-blue eyes trying to focus on Eda from across the room.

Hawke shakes her head, “Andraste’s flaming _tits_ , is that really you?”

Eda laughs, "Twenty or so years, and I see you still haven’t cleaned up that mouth of yours.” Strange how after so long, the women are still so comfortable in each other’s company.

“I’ve had a lot of time to practice.” The women gaze at each other for a moment, Eda simply wanting to hug her cousin. Maker, Freddie looks like she needs it. Hawke finally looks away, likely seeing the pity and underlying sadness in Eda’s eyes. “I didn’t think you would really come,” she says softly, “It’s good to see you again.”

Before Eda knows what she’s doing, she’s dropped her staff and has thrown her arms around her cousin. Freddie is stiff in her arms, and Eda wonders what she must have gone through to stiffen at touch like this. But not too much later, Freddie is melting into her cousin’s touch, burying her face in the blue warden robes. Eda can’t imagine Freddie’s situation, but to hold onto her own flesh and blood after so long, it feels like heaven.

They break the embrace when the child cries out, likely pressed too tightly between them. Freddie immediately begins to fuss over her babe, walking back across the room to a dresser fitted with a pad, “Now, don’t start this up again, Ella, you were being so good…” Freddie groans.

Eda smiles, eyes downcast, “Ella’s a pretty name.” Her own voice sounds nearly broken, as if something within her had finally snapped at hearing Hawke’s daughter’s name.

“Bethany’s idea,” Freddie says, her matter-of-fact tone of voice reminding Eda of her cousin during their childhood. She never did mince any words. “Varric tried to bribe me into naming her Varric as well.” Eda chuckled. Varric must be the dwarf she always talks about. Freddie worries her brows together, “She’s usually such a good baby, but she’s not having any of it today.” She glances back down to the flushed infant, addressing her, “You’re not wet and you just ate, what is it that you want, darling?”

Eda smiles at her cousin’s maternity: at least someone should enjoy being a mother. Ella lets out another loud wail as Hawke slips the pin back into the diaper. She shakes her head, “I’m so sorry, Eda, I’m such a shit hostess—”

“She might need burping,” Eda says with a soft smile. Hawke’s eyebrows raise.

“—she might need what now?” Eda laughs softly and joins her cousin in leaning over the changing pad.

She tosses a towel over her left shoulder, gesturing to Ella, “May I?”

Freddie throws her hands into the air, “Be my guest.” Eda lifts the kicking babe into her arms, relishing in the sensation of cradling a child in her arms after so many years of desperation. She lets Ella’s head rest on her shoulder and begins to bounce her lightly, patting her back and supporting her bottom as she does.

“Babies don’t really get the hang of digestion until they’re a few months old. I’m just helping her do what her tummy can’t yet,” she explains as she pats. Hawke looks conflicted for a moment and then lets out a bark.

“You’re telling me she’s crying because she’s got wind? And I thought I had problems. You can’t even fart for yourself, you poor dear,” Freddie says, hardly able to contain her laughter. Eda smiles at her cousin’s vulgarity and laughs lightly. She begins to rub Ella’s back rather than pat it. On one final pat, Ella spits up a bit of phlegm and milk onto the towel and yawns. Her tiny pink hand wraps around Eda’s braid as she drifts off to sleep. Eda smiles softly down at the infant nestled against her chest. “Amazing,” Freddie breathes as she watches her daughter fall asleep on Eda’s shoulder, “I think she really likes you.”

Eda beams at her cousin and then down at the bundle resting against her. “I think I really like her,” she says quietly. For just a moment, it feels like this girl in her arms is more than related. It feels like she could be Eda’s own child. She shakes herself out of it: _this babe is Freddie’s, not mine_. By the time she’s left her daydream, Eda just catches the end of Freddie’s reply.

“…she needs _someone_ who knows about changing and burping and such,” her cousin says, wrapping her arms around herself.

Eda nearly laughs, “Don’t you have at least forty people working in this house at all times who could help with that?”

“Ugh,” Freddie scoffs, “don’t get me started on the help. They’re always… _there_. I can’t even poke at my own fireplace without one of them rushing in and scolding me about getting my hands dirty.” She shakes her head incredulously, “I fought an arishok. I’ve slain _high dragons_ and they’re worried about my dirty hands!”

Eda grins in mutual understanding, “I know! I _hated_ having everything done for me at Amaranthine. I got so frustrated one night that I sent all the servants home on a mandatory vacation.” She shakes her head, “Maker, three days later and I had never seen such a mess!”

“Hey, but it was your mess and you were proud of it!”

Eda laughs, “Maybe ‘proud’ is a bit of an exaggeration…” She ducks her head sheepishly, having endeavored to keep her own home impeccably clean, despite Alistair.

“Nonsense. Making messes is an Amell family tradition!”

Eda shakes her head, “Truer words were never spoken.” She looks up from the babe’s chest she’s been watching rise and fall, meeting her cousin’s eyes. Flame meeting ice. The women smile at one another, sharing a deep understanding Eda has not felt since she was carted off to the Circle at age ten.

“No,” Hawke says gently, “I guess not.” Comfortable silence falls over them as Eda goes back to slightly bouncing on the balls of her feet, trying to keep Ella asleep. She smiles down at the babe. The girl’s face is familiar somehow, but not like Hawke’s or her own. Ella’s nose is not upturned softly like the Amell nose and there are a few soft blonde wisps of hair slipping out from under her woolen cap. Her lips are thinner than Freddie’s too. She’s lovely.

Eda’s lips quirk into a grimace for but a second, remembering the nights in those few _wonderful_ weeks were she and Alistair would think about their child’s face. He thought she would have Eda’s plump lips and thin strawberry blonde hair. She thought their son would have flame-red hair and eyes that twinkle like Alistair’s when he’s being mischievous. Oh, the mischief their child would get into with a mabari puppy on their heels. And they would be powerless to stop the rampage. But when she looks down at Ella, all of that washes away: she isn’t theirs. That much is obvious. The bone structure doesn’t mimic his any more than it does hers. And that nose… she knows that nose from somewhere.

Eda is pulled from her thoughts by the sound of Alistair’s voice from the doorway, “Maker’s breath. That’s a sight I could get used to.” A tear drips down Eda’s face and she hastily wipes it away while Freddie is distracted. She whips around, beaming at her husband, glowing like the days when she was… She shakes her head lightly, clearing the memory, and darts across the room, bouncing Ella the whole way, to plant a kiss on his jaw. He leans down slightly to press one to the top of her head.

“You certainly caught up fast,” she says with a chuckle.

“I just followed the sound of screams and hoped for the best,” he glances down at the child in her arms. Softer, so as not to wake her, he says, “Works every time.”

Eda looks back down to the babe and up to her cousin, standing halfway across the room, “Do you want…?” Hawke shakes the hand she is holding up in the air.

“You hold on to her. She seems to like you and we’ll just wake her up if we move her,” she says offhandedly. Eda is sure there’s some kind of hurt there in her voice. How couldn’t there be with the letter she’d written _“The father is dead. Please help.”_? It must hurt Freddie to see Alistair’s love for her the same way it hurts her to hold this child who was so clearly not her own. She doesn’t look like them, that’s true, but she does feel right in Eda’s arms, snuggled against her chest. Her womb aches as she bleeds into the flannel, another thorn driving itself into her heart.

“You must be the fabled Alvin,” Freddie says, extending a hand to Alistair.

He laughs jovially, “That’s me, Alvin the Almighty, husband to the Hero!” He turns to Eda, a smile reserved just for her on his face, “Ooh! I like that darling: ‘Alvin the Almighty!” You’ve got to help me remember that.”

She smiles and swats at his shoulder, “Stop shouting, you’ll wake the little one!” He puts a finger to his lips like they did as young apprentices when they were marched down the corridor beside the senior enchanters’ quarters. She turns to her cousin, “Freddie, this is my husband, _Alistair—”_

“Ali-what?”

“—Alistair, love, this is my cousin, Freddie.”

He takes her hand and shakes it enthusiastically, “The Champion of Kirkwall, we meet at last. I see the family resemblance, actually,” he looks between the two women quickly, “The nose, the cheekbones, the insane ‘ _I’ve got to save the world!’_ look in the eyes.” Eda smiles good-naturedly and swats his shoulder again.

Freddie laughs at the title, “Look, if you want to call me that, you’re going to have to buy me a drink first. After barging into my house in the middle of the night, it’s the least you can do.”

“I’m sorry about that,” Eda says with a slight grimace, “We meant to send word tonight and visit tomorrow morning, but…”

“But _somebody_ took a flying leap off the ship and barreled into the city before her poor husband had a chance to retrieve their luggage,” Alistair says with a smirk.

“It wasn’t a _flying_ leap,” Eda complains.

“Eda,” he says pressing another kiss to her head, “I swear you forget you’re a mage sometimes.” He looks across to Freddie for support, “She was easily ten feet off the ground.”

Eda pouts, “Well, what can I say? I was excited to see my favourite cousin.” She laughs lightly, a bit embarrassed.

“That’s an understatement!” Alistair cries, “She abandoned me is what she did. Asked where the Viscount’s estate was and marches straight through the city gates without so much as a ‘Don’t wait up, dear!’ I had to find the bloody place on my own in the dark, which is a real feat when _every street in this city looks the same_. It’s a wonder I’m not lost in an alley somewhere.”

Freddie smiles, “Don’t worry, the ruffians would have found you soon enough and sold you off to the highest bidder.” Alistair laughs loudly.

“Ah, I knew those ruffians had to be good for something!”

“You come into _my_ city and insult _my_ ruffians,” Hawke gasps, bemused, “Unacceptable.”

Eda shakes her head, “After the darkspawn, I thought he’d be glad to see a ruffian or two. Besides,” she says, going up onto her toes to kiss him, “you made it to the estate in one piece.

He grins and kisses her again, “Yes, I did, no thanks to the _Hero of Ferelden_.” She swats at him, but he catches her wrist and kisses her again. In an immaculate display of perfect timing, Ella awakens and grabs two fistfuls of the first thing she could reach: Alistair’s hair.

He yelps and pulls away from his bride, attempting to extricate himself from the infant’s grasp, “I see I have offended the lady of the house!”

“Ooh, you’re in trouble now,” Freddie warns, beginning to back toward the dresser where a rubber nipple sat. However, rather than crying like most babies do, Ella merely starts to coo. “Then again,” she says softly, “maybe you’re not, Aniston—”

“ _Alistair.”_

“—that’s what I said—This is my boss: Ella,” Hawke says, waving her hand dismissively at her cousin.

“A pleasure,” he says, smiling despite the hair pulling.

“Ella,” Freddie says, addressing the newborn, “this is… Alistair? Are we _sure_ it’s Alistair?”

Eda chuckles, “That’s what it says in the Warden files. I should know! I spent six damn months going through those files in Amaranthine while he was off frolicking in the Deep Roads.”

“Hey!” he protests, “You and I both know you can’t frolic in the Deep Roads.” He gently unfurls Ella’s fingers from around his hair, “The terrain is much better suited for traipsing. _There!_ ” Triumphant, he pulls free, “Maker, what are you _feeding_ her?” He rubbed his scalp slightly.

“Haven’t you heard?” Freddie asks, “Dragon’s blood is the only thing for Kirkwall babies these days.”

Alistair chuckles, “Right, that’s what Thedas needs. Another Amell woman with superhuman powers running amok.” He taps Ella’s nose with his index finger. She grabs it and pulls it toward her mouth.

“I’d be careful, darling,” warns Eda, “Freddie told me she’s got a full set of shark teeth.”

Alistair jerks his hand away quickly, pulling it from Ella’s grasp. Eda and Freddie chuckle at Alistair’s confusion, but Ella begins to cry. Freddie rushes forward and takes her daughter from Eda’s arms. For a second, Eda almost attempts to resist her older cousin, as if she was snatching Eda’s own daughter away from her.

“Ah…sorry, Freddie…” Alistair says sheepishly, rubbing the back of his head.

“Don’t be,” she says, waving the apology off, “It’s long past her bedtime; she’s just cranky.” She takes the rubber nipple from where it sits on the dresser and pops it into Ella’s mouth. Freddie sits down with her in the rocking chair in the corner. Ella begins crying almost as soon as she sits down. Freddie sighs, “Looks like we’ve got a full-blown tantrum on our hands. If you’d like to go to bed, Selwyn could show you to the guest quarters. He’s just down the hall, and I know you both must be exhausted…”

Eda shakes her head, “Nonsense. We’ll wait in the parlor for you to get her down and then we can chat.” Eda grabs her husband by the arm and begins to lead him out.

He turns quickly to Hawke, “Ah, about the parlor… I feel obligated to warn you about the hairy dwarf passed out on your rug. It looked like he was cuddling with some kind of… giant crossbow… thing? Is he a friend of yours?” He scratches at the back of his neck.

Freddie laughs, shifting Ella to rest her head against her shoulder, “That’s just Varric! He’s been holed up here since Ella arrived six days ago, the dear man… I don’t know how I’d have managed without him. He must have finally conked out from sheer exhaustion.” If Eda was being honest, Freddie looked about exhausted as well.

Alistair chuckles, “Glad to hear he’s not an intruder. Sounds like Ella’s lucky to have such a dedicated father.” Eda squeezes his bicep tight, her other hand flying to cover her mouth and look back at her cousin. Freddie’s eyebrows were raised high into her bangs, and she looked to be about to cry.

Eda releases Alistair’s arm and shoves at his back, “Why don’t you go find that Selwyn fellow, love?”

“But I thought you said…”

“I’d like to have a word with Freddie first. Woman talk, you’d hate it,” she says, scrunching her nose, “Now, shoo!”

“But—”

“I said shoo!” she says, pushing him on out the door and closing the door. She leans back against it, running her hands over her face, “I’m so sorry, I swear I told him not to…”

Freddie shakes her head, empty smile on her lips, “It’s fine, Eda. Why don’t you have Selwyn show you to the wine cellar and grab a nice shiraz? It sounds like you and I will need it.” Eda nods slowly, a sad smile on her lips.

“Sounds like a deal, dear,” she says, pressing against the door, “I will see you soon. And then we can talk.”


	10. Year 8 - Part 2

“Love, can we talk?” Eda asks, entering the parlor to see her husband gently prodding the dwarf uncomfortably placed in an armchair. What had Freddie called him? Varric? Was that it? She leans against the archway as he looks up.

He stands, making his way over to her, “Of course, Eda. Was it what I said? Clearly I did something wrong.” He sheepishly looks down at his feet.

She tilts his head up just enough to look him in the eyes, “Oh, sweetie… Yes, but Freddie understands.”

“What was it, though? What I said about Ella’s father? Is this dwarf,” he points at Varric’s sleeping body, “not her dad? They do look enough alike: the nose isn’t too far off, and her hair is definitely blonde like his.”

“Dear,” Eda begins, taking Alistair’s hand, “Freddie wrote me that letter, you know. That’s how we knew to come. Well, in the letter she told me that the father isn’t around anymore.”

A steely look breezes over Alistair’s eyes. “Isn’t around?” he whispers. Suddenly his countenance changes, to the point where he may as well be seeing red, “Isn’t around! I don’t see your cousin as the kind of lady who is going to just sit by while the _father of her child_ is off galivanting around, pretending he has no worries in the world. Maker, I’ll find him. I’ll find him, and he’ll be sorry he ever left—”

“Alistair, no,” Eda says, placing her hand on his upper arm, hushing him, a sad look clouding her amber eyes, “He’s _not around_ anymore. He died, my love.”

“Oh,” he says, voice dropping back to a whisper, fingers curling around her loose hand. “I should never have said anything. She probably hates me now.”

Eda smirks lightly, “She doesn’t hate you.” She rolls her eyes, “She understands. But I suppose I should have told you why she was so desperate for our help when I first got the letter.”

He leans in to nuzzle her nose, “That’s alright. It was a hard time for us too. I know the letter felt like a slap in the face.”

The corners of her mouth turn up slightly, the smile not quite reaching her eyes, “Not a slap in the face. I love her; I can’t let this feel like that. She’s my cousin, and she’s in more pain than I am right now.”

“No,” he says, rubbing circles on the back of her hand, “I saw you with that babe; you can’t tell me you weren’t hurting. Maker, it hurts me too.” He brings his other hand up to brush through her hair, “It hurts me too. It hurts to see you in pain. But it hurts to see you holding a child like she’s ours, knowing that we may not be able to have one, too.” A tear drips down her face, and he brushes it away. “I love you, Eda, and no matter how much your cousin is hurting and how much you want to help that pain stop, you can’t expect me to put her pain over yours. We’ve been married for seven years,” he says with a soft chuckle, “I hope I know what’s going on in your head just a little.”

She smiles, looking up into his eyes, “You are too good for me.”

“No,” he corrects, squeezing her hand, “You’re too good for me. We’ve talked about this. You’re my better half.”

Her tattooed cheeks redden slightly as she pulls her husband down into a kiss. She moves the hand on his bicep to around his neck. With the hand he was stroking through her hair, he cups the back of her head, pressing her deeper into the kiss. She pulls away first, slightly breathless.

“Maker,” he says, cheeks flushed and pupils wide, “let’s find that Selwyn fellow and get a room. It has been too long since I’ve been with you on solid ground.”

She giggles, “Later. I’ve got to talk to Freddie. It has been nearly twenty years since we spoke properly.” Alistair opens his mouth to protest. She presses her index finger to his lips, “It’s only been a month since we were on dry land. Plus, I’m bleeding now; there’s no need to try tonight and absolutely _soil_ the sheets on that bed.”

“They’re only sheets,” he says with a pout, kissing her lightly again, “Alright. I’ll leave you to your lady talk.” He begins to walk away, but thinks better of it and turns back to face his wife, “Are you going to tell her about…” He gestures to the pocket in the waist of her skirt.

She swallows, smile dropping slightly, “I don’t know yet. I’ll have to at some point, or it will make our stay here all the worse.”

“I’d hate to see her trip over her words like I did earlier. It would only hurt you. And,” he says, brushing back a stray hair from her face, “I could never do that.”

“Never,” she says, pressing her cheek into his palm. Eda pats his hand lightly, “Well, go on and find this Selwyn fellow so he can direct you to our room. I will be there when I can, but it may be hours. Don’t stay awake on my account.”

“After our trip here,” he says with a laugh, “It’ll be a miracle if I don’t fall asleep the second my head hits the pillow.” She laughs too, letting out a small yawn.

“I certainly understand that,” Eda says, kissing her husband once more, “Now go on. I expect to see you passed out on your belly, stark naked when I get there.”

“Only if you’ll be stark naked in my arms when I wake up tomorrow morning,” he says with a chuckle.

She beams and pushes him out into the corridor, “I promise.” Once Alistair retreats down the hallway, Eda raises her eyebrow at the dwarf sleeping in the corner. She walks over to the armchair and, retrieving a pillow from the couch, and casually tries to slip it under Varric’s head. After a few minutes at the attempt, she gives up and unceremoniously plops down onto the sofa, pulling the bottle of wine from her belt and setting it on the coffee table in front of her.

Eda leans back with a sigh, resting her head against the back of the couch. Freddie was much like Eda remembered her: brash, loud, sarcastic. But there was something underneath her flaming blue eyes, something Eda recognizes in her own when she looks into the mirror. Her hands reach instinctively for the waistband of her skirts, where the soft crumpled and pressed again letter stays, the only physical memory of their lost child. _Perhaps when we return to Denerim I will bury the letter and plant a tree over it, like the Dalish do. So that whenever we are home our child will be with us in physicality._ A small smile quirks at her lips at the thought of having something that would grow and live to represent the babe rather than just the tattering parchment.

Hawke’s arrival startles Eda for a moment, but she smiles back, a yawn at her lips. Freddie pops the wine and lifts it to her nose, “Where’s Alistair?” She taps her glass and the crystal rings out in the parlor, “I didn’t run him off, did I?”

Eda laughs lightly, “I sent him up to bed. He wanted to stay and chat with you, but I told him you and I needed some time to catch up first.” She sips her wine, ensuring to take it slow, not wanting to spend her first full day in Kirkwall hungover. “And I was afraid he’d put his foot further into his mouth.” She sends an apologetic smile to her cousin, now sitting on the arm of the sofa, swirling her wine. Hawke laughs as she notices her friend propped oddly in the armchair in the corner. Varric snores, and Eda follows her cousin’s gaze to him, “We tried to pull him onto the chair, so he’d be more comfortable, but...” She gestures vaguely, “He’s a bit…denser than we had thought, and we didn’t want to wake him up by knocking him around.”

Hawke takes a deep drink from her full wine glass, “That’s alright. He’s a hard sleeper; it’d take a high dragon to wake him up now.” Eda nods and chuckles. If this dwarf really had been staying here since Ella’s birth, it isn’t a wonder he’s exhausted. She’d delivered a neighbor’s babe a couple of years ago as she was the only healer in the area. When she went to check in on the family a week later, she found the father and mother passed out in each other’s arms while the babe’s oldest sister, a girl of no more than twelve, cradled the infant. The young girl was the only one in the home that had had a decent night of sleep for a week.

She shakes herself from this memory as she looks over to Freddie, “High dragons, qunari warlords, corrupt templars… I’ve heard so many wild rumours about the mischief you’ve been into while we were apart. I’m curious to know if any of them are true.” She takes a sip of her wine and looks at her cousin over the rim of the glass.

Freddie barks, “You’re one to talk, Ser ‘I’ve slain the archdemon and lived to tell the tale!” She slides from the arm of the sofa onto the cushion and folds her legs under her. Eda turns her gaze from her old friend, cheeks reddening under her light tattoos.

“People love to blow that story out of proportion. I was unconscious most of that fight,” her smile turns fond, “Alistair did most of the work, I just got the final swing on the bugger.”

Hawke snorts, “Even you can’t downplay that, cousin-of-mine. You saved Ferelden. You stopped a _Blight_. Own it.” She downs another gulp of wine. Eda quirks an eyebrow at her cousin’s drinking habit, taking a small sip from her own glass. Hawke puts her hand on Eda’s shoulder, “I want to know the story. The _real_ story, not the watered-down version you tell yourself or the hyped-up fairytale people have invented. The truth lies somewhere along the middle. _That’s_ the story I want to hear.”

Eda sighs, “Fair enough. But only if you tell me the _real_ story of how you saved Kirkwall.”

Freddie shakes her head, chuckling, “The story of how I fucked Kirkwall up the ass and then made it marginally less shitty than it had been before?” Eda raises her brows, a smirk rising on her lips. Hawke pours herself another full-to-overflowing glass of wine. She looks down at the dark red liquid, whispering, “Maker I’ve missed alcohol.” She looks back up to her cousin, “Fair enough. Truth for a truth. But,” she gestures to the bottle of wine nearing half-empty, “we’re going to need a few more bottles of this.” Eda grimaces lightly at the wine, enjoying the taste, but already regretting the amount of drinking she knows they’ll need to get through these tales.

They ladies exchange memories and stories for several hours. She tells Freddie of her Harrowing and all about her dearest friend Jowan, how she and Alistair survived Ostagar, the trips across Ferelden with the Grey Warden treaties, and how she fell in love with Alistair. Two empty wine bottles accumulate on the table before Eda gets to telling Freddie about the archdemon fight. She tells it in all honesty, the wine just altering her brain enough to allow her to drop her humility. Near the end of her story of the fight, Freddie holds up a hand.

“All right, here’s where I’m hung up. I was told that a Grey Warden _can’t_ kill an archdemon without dying in the process,” she says with a frown. Eda bites her lip. “Something about the taint absorbing its essence? So how did you do the one thing that Grey Wardens can’t do?”

Refilling her glass, Eda answers, her voice cold, “It’s kind of a touchy subject. Remember the apostate woman I told you about? Flemeth’s daughter?” She downs the remainder of the wine in her glass in one drink.

“Morgana, right?”

“Morrigan.”

“Right.”

Eda lets out a heavy sigh, “She and Alistair _despised_ each other. Couldn’t last ten minutes without jumping at each other’s throats. She never liked me much either, but we were civil. Or, I thought she was.”

“You thought,” Hawke asks with a cocked eyebrow.

She runs her finger along the rim of her wine glass, evoking a whine of crystal, “She had a plan all along. Perhaps from the moment her mother brought us to her hut, she had a plan.”

“What kind of plan?” Hawke asks, her blue eyes piercing through Eda’s own amber. Eda places her glass back onto the table and temples her fingers.

“A ritual. On the eve of the final battle, after we had learned that one of us would have to die to stop the Blight, she told me there was another way.” She closes her eyes, breathing deeply, “She told me that if she could conceive a child with a Grey Warden, the child would inherit the taint, and the Archdemon’s essence would seek it out instead of the warden that slew it.” Hawke remains quiet as Eda rubs at her sleep-filled eyes, “And she told me… that it had to be with Alistair.”

“Oh,” Hawke says, an unpleased grimace appearing on her wine-flushed face, “So she… so they…?”

Eda throws up her hands in a gesture of helplessness, “I had to let her. Otherwise one of us would have died that night. And we had just begun,” she talks with her hand, gestures becoming more elaborate with each phrase, “Freddie, I couldn’t let it end like that…” She finishes the statement by pressing her hand over her mouth, stifling a small sob.

Freddie wraps her arms around her cousin, “I know, Eda. I would have done the same. And it worked obviously.” She pulls back a bit, holding Eda’s shoulders comfortingly, “The Archdemon is dead and neither of you had to die.” Hawke ponders something for a bit, her icy gaze clouding over for a short time, “Which could mean that it’s not hopeless for you. Having children, I mean.” She smiles, “If Alistair was able to conceive once, who’s to say he can’t do it again with you?”

Eda’s hands drop to her waistband of the skirt, skimming over the letter. A tear drips from her eye, and Freddie brushes it away, smiling. Eda smiles lightly, her eyes remaining downcast.

“I have thought about it before,” she says, struggling to keep her words even, “But the more I consider it, the more I wonder what kind of magic was at play that night.” Her hands move to cover her belly, pressing lightly to alleviate the pain there, “And then I wonder if I’m not the problem.”

Freddie lifts her cousin’s chin to look her in the eye, “Listen to me, little cousin: you are not the problem. The odds are equally stacked against you both in this. Just because it hasn’t worked out yet doesn’t mean it never will. How long did you say you’d been trying?”

Eda sniffs, hands still resting on her abdomen, “Six years.”

“Only six?” Freddie asks with a smile, “Eda, love, it takes some normal couples longer than that. You can’t give up hope just yet. The Maker will bless you and Alistair with an armful of beautiful, sarcastic babies one day, I just know it.” She leans in to brush aside her cousin’s bangs and kiss her forehead. Eda remains stiff in her cousin’s grasp, brows furrowed and tears pricking at the corners of her eyes. Freddie pulls back and licks her lips cautiously, “But that’s not everything is it?” Eda presses her hand to her lips, shaking her head. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Without meaning to, Eda bursts into tears, and the words come spilling out before she can stop them, “A few months ago… we were so hopeful… we thought… Oh, Freddie, we just had the basinet commissioned!” She breaks, collapsing into Freddie’s arms, sobbing into her shoulder.

Slowly Hawke rubs Eda’s back, answering, “Shit. Eda, I can’t imagine…”

She pulls back from the comforting embrace, looking Freddie in the eyes. Under her breath, she cries, “I had never felt so _empty_ , Freddie. It felt like my own body was poison.” She covers her mouth again, fishing the letter out of her waistband and thrusting it into Freddie’s hands.

Freddie slowly unfolds the crinkled piece of parchment, reading silently. She shakes her head softly, “Maker’s breath…”

Eda couldn’t hope that Freddie would understand. A woman who so easily passed off her child to any willing woman, who never seemed like much of a caregiver, how could she understand the pain Eda felt? A soft voice in her head tells Eda that her cousin may have changed in the near twenty years it has been since they’ve actually spent any time together. _But she knows_ nothing _about being a mother. She doesn’t even seem to want it_. Finally, Eda just crosses her arms over her abdomen, holding herself and wishing that she hadn’t sent Alistair to bed. He would know what to do, how to comfort her. Eda is broken from her focus by Hawke’s words.

“Eda, I’m so sorry. I would never have asked you to come help with Ella if I’d known how painful this would be…”

“No,” Eda says, smiling through her tears, “I’m glad I got to see her. It was like a reminder of what we’re hoping for.” Freddie passes the letter back to her cousin, and Eda holds it close to her heart, “And I couldn’t pass the opportunity to see you…especially after your letter.” Hawke leans forward to embrace her cousin. They hold each other for a long time, only breaking the hug when Eda leans back to blow her nose into her handkerchief.

She breathes in deeply, wiping away the damp tear trails on her cheeks, “About your letter. You said Ella’s father had passed away?”

“Passed away is putting it a bit lightly,” Freddie says, almost spitting venom. Her eyes become steely and her lips press into a thin line, “I killed him.”

“You what?” Eda says, eyes blown wide, spitting her wine back into the glass.

“I killed him,” Freddie says again, “I looked this man in the eye, a man I had sworn to love and protect, and I cut him down.” Her composure slips slightly as her voice breaks on the last word.

Eda covers her mouth in horror, “ _Why?_ ”

Freddie places her hand on her elbow. Her voice drops to near a whisper, “I suppose you saw the reconstruction taking place on the Chantry.” She pulls a small disk from her sleeve.

Eda nods, “Yes, but I don’t see what that has to do with—”

“He did that,” Freddie interrupts, voice rising, “And he lied to me about it. He was always going on and on about mage rights, pulling one harebrained scheme after another to win their freedom from the templars.”

Gasping, Eda asks, “He blew up a Chantry?” She nods.

She places her hands on her forehead, “I thought this was just another one of his pranks on the knight-commander. I can’t say they were ever really harmless, but I was always happy to help when it meant freeing mages for oppression. But he took it too far,” she cries, “He asked me to help him sneak into the cellar of the Chantry… I assumed he was nabbing some artifact or another…” Eda steadies her, placing a hand on her arm and nodding a go-ahead. Hawke grimaces, “…But he was planting explosives. When I found out, I was furious.” Her cheeks glow redder with each statement, the wine-blush only darkening, “I had never known anger like that before. But it was even worse than I thought. The knight-commander saw what happened and assumed it was a full-blown mage rebellion; she invoked the Rite of Annulment.”

Eda gasps, remembering her own experience with the Rite. Her mouth turns irony when she remembers how Uldred had forced her hand, how her own tempest spell had killed the very man she had come to think of as a father. Greagoir had thought she was on his side, seemingly forgetting her own eleven years in the tower and his hatred of her after she broke Jowan’s phylactery. The whole memory of the Circle came rushing back, her short time flirting with the templar Cullen, the demon she had spent time with in the Fade during the Harrowing, her close friendship with Jowan and how her heart broke when she found out about his blood magic. She had been too judgmental: Velanna is a blood mage, and she loves the elf like a sister, as she had loved Jowan. But now, he may not even be alive, even after she requested that his life be saved. He had still called her “friend”. _If I were really his friend, I would have told him to run when I found him in Redcliffe Castle. He doesn’t deserve what has been done to him._

Hawke’s story continues, breaking Eda from her memory, “I was so hurt, so confused… up until then, I had been fighting for mages whenever and wherever I could, but this… There was a riot in the streets. People were clamoring for the mages to be put down, threatening to storm the Gallows and do the job themselves if I didn’t allow the templars the Rite.” Her voice breaks, “So… I let them proceed. Maker, Eda, I _helped_ them! I thought it would be better to give them a quick death than to let the mob torture them until they turned into abominations…” She chokes back a sob, “When he learned about my decision, he tried to stop me. He said that he had loved me once, and then… then he tried to kill me.” The dam breaks, and Freddie falls into Eda’s arms, much like Eda had not much before, “I should have let him. I know what you must think of me, Eda…” she says into her cousin’s shoulder.

Eda stares wide-eyed, but wraps her arms around her cousin regardless, running her fingers through the short black ponytail. Freddie leans back slightly, “I understand if you want to leave. Varric can get you a room at the Hanged Man until I find a ship to take you back to Ferelden; he owns the place. I’ll have Selwyn wake Alistair—”

Eda pulls her back down, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. Freddie’s hair is oily. _She probably hasn’t had a moment to bathe since cleaning up after Ella’s birth_.

“I don’t understand.”

“We aren’t going anywhere, Freddie,” Eda says, smiling into Freddie’s hair, “You did what you had to do that day. It was a difficult choice, but it was _your_ choice, and you saved so many lives by making it. But there’s nothing you could have done that day that would make me leave when you still need me.” _We need each other more than we know_. “You’re my family, Freddie. And I love you.”

Freddie stiffens, “I don’t deserve that.”

Eda slaps her head softly, “Stop it. You’re not a monster, and you’re not beyond help. That’s why I’m here, you dolt. You said ‘help’,” Eda squeezes her cousin tighter, “and I came running.”

Freddie softens in Eda’s grasp, dropping the tension from her shoulders. When she is cried out, she pulls away and wipes her nose on her sleeve. Eda bends to pick up the disk Freddie had placed aside, “What’s this?”

“Oh, it must have slipped off the sofa,” Freddie says, untying the leather strip that held her hair back. “It’s a portrait of… him. I don’t know why I carry it around, I know its stupid. I guess it’s a way to keep him here, so Ella will have something to know her father by.”

“It’s the same reason I keep the letter, Freddie. It’s not stupid,” Eda says softly, putting her hand over Hawke’s.

Hawke shakes her now loose hair and reaches to cork the bottle of wine when Eda gasps.

“This is…” Eda says in disbelief as she stares at the familiar handsome face on the plate, “Is this Anders?”

Hawke sighs, nodding, “Yes.” She takes the plate and runs her finger along the watercolour, “She got his nose. And his chin.”

Eda stares at the painting, amber eyes steely. The face of the man who had saved her life a hundred times over stares back. The man was wonderful when she’d known him, a bit rash, a bit too flirty, but all he wanted was freedom for himself and others. She understood: the Circle had never been quite so cruel to her as he claimed it had been to him, but if the hours she spent watching the sunrise out of the tallest windows were any indication, she had craved freedom just as much as he had.

“Wait… how did you know his name?” Hawke asks warily.

Eda licks her lips, thinking of how to respond, “I don’t believe it. Not from what you’ve told me… then again, there was always something under the surface with him…”

Freddie clasps her cousin’s shoulder, demanding “Eda, what are you saying?”

She sighs, “Freddie, I don’t exactly know how to tell you this…” She lifts her hands and then drops them, “I knew Anders.”

“ _What?”_ Hawke nearly shouts.

“Knew him well, too, or I thought I had. I’m the one who recruited him into the wardens,” Eda drops her eyes back to the portrait, “I _knew_ Ella looked familiar, but I assumed I was just seeing Aunt Leandra. I never would have guessed…” She pinches the bridge of her nose and leans back, memories flooding back of her time in Amaranthine. They’d saved the city together with Nate and Justice, killed broodmothers, fought their way out of the fade, and closed rifts together. How could this man that she had grown to regard as a brother, no, more like a son (even though he was a good couple of years older than her), be dead? Have been killed by her cousin? Had a child with her as well? Oh, Anders…

“How the hell did he end up in Kirkwall? How did he leave the wardens? And _why_? There wasn’t even a Blight when he was recruited,” she cries out, unsure about everything that had happened with her dear friend while she was off being selfish, wasting time looking for a cure that would never be found and trying for a family that would never be born. If she’d only stayed at Vigil’s Keep, maybe she could have stopped _all of this_.

“He never really liked to talk about why he was in Kirkwall,” Freddie begins hesitantly, “But he always said he left the wardens because they wouldn’t let him keep his cat.”

Eda’s eyes grow, “ _Ser Pounce-a-Lot_?” Hawke nods. Furiously Eda exclaims, “That’s bullshit! I _gave_ him that bloody cat!”

Freddie sighs, “I’m not exactly surprised. He fed me enough lies while we were together for me to question everything I know about him.”

“But it doesn’t make _sense_!” she protests, “He was a good man when I knew him. A little on the chaotic side, perhaps, but not the sort of man to slaughter innocents for symbolic revenge against the templars…”

“I never said he wasn’t a good man,” she says softly, brushing her hand across the plate, “He was standing up for what he thought was right. I have to believe that.”

“Maker.”

“Just like I have to believe that it wasn’t him in the end. That Justice finally took over and shoved Anders into the back of his own consciousness where he couldn’t see what I did to him.” Just like how Eda pretends that Irving was unconscious and never heard her cast tempest.

“…Did you say Justice? Like the spirit?” she asks softly, thinking of her time in the Blackmarsh. Hawke nods, poking at the fire. “Was Anders… was he bound to Justice?”

Freddie nods again, “Don’t ask me how though. All I know is that Vengeance offered to help him free the mages if Anders would be a physical host for him. Which is really almost funny if you think about it, considering all the shit he gave Merrill for making deals with spirits.”

“Maker’s breath,” Eda sighs, “What a wild night.”

Freddie laughs half-heartedly, “No, shit. But…um…thank you. For listening, I mean. And for… not hating me.” Eda smiles kindly up at her. “You have no idea how good it feels to talk to someone about all this. Aveline and Merrill and Varric have been great and all, but they were all there that day. They have their own interpretation of what happened, I know.”

Eda grins, “I know exactly what you mean. I haven’t been able to talk to anyone but Alistair since this all started. It feels like this giant, black cloud has finally passed, and I can see the sun again.” The women hold each other close as Eda stands. Varric lets out a roar of a snore and the women dissolve into a fit of giggles. “ _He_ has the right idea. I can barely hold my eyes open,” Eda says with a yawn.

Hawke holds up one of the empty bottles, “It’s the wine. You’re in for a real treat tomorrow morning.”

Eda groans, remembering her earlier promise to herself not to drink too much, “Great, what a fantastic way to begin my stay in Kirkwall.” Freddie snickers but stops when she receives Eda’s glower.

Taking her cousin’s hands in her own, Hawke says, “You’re always welcome in my home for as long as you can stand us. And Alistair as well.”

Eda beams, “We’re so happy to be here, Freddie, you have no idea. It’ll be like having a family again.”

“Yeah,” Freddie smiles back, “A family.” She fixes the pillows under Varric then walks Eda out of the parlor up to the guest room. Eda laughs softly to hear her husband’s soft snores from inside.

“Night, Freddie,” she yawns, beginning to finally release her hair from its many braids, “See you in the morning.”

Hawke smiles and pats her shoulder one last time, “Good night, Eda.” Eda kisses her cheek and opens the door slowly, trying to avoid it creaking. Alistair is, as she requested, laying sprawled naked on the bed, his face firmly joined to the pillow. Eda beams at the man, watching his back rise and fall as she takes her hair down, placing the pearl beads into a leather pouch in her robes. She slips off her shoes and lifts the tunic over her head, dropping it into the pile of Alistair’s underclothes, his armor having been tidily put away on a bench in the corner of the room. She wriggles out of her trousers and tighter fitting top and skirt, leaving them in the same growing pile after removing the letter and placing it under the pouch with her pearls. Hair finally free, she shakes her head generously, letting the crimped hair fall into place over her normally straight white locks. She unwraps her breast band and climbs into the bed.

The sheets surprise her: after a month on a ship and years before rarely staying somewhere as nice as Hawke manor, the silken sheets feel wonderful on her bare skin. And the downy pillows feel like heaven compared to those rocks they call pillows at home. Maker! She’s the Hero of Ferelden. She deserves to sleep on sheets like these every night. She giggles to herself, rousing Alistair just enough for him to roll over and wrap his arm around her. _No,_ she thinks, leaning back into his hold, _this is all I need. Just him. Forever._ A smile graces her lips as she drifts off to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look, friends, I'm aware that Hawke would be nursing Ella and therefore wouldn't be able to drink. Perhaps the Hawke estate has a wet nurse for the kid? I don't know.


	11. Year 8 - Part 3

"Freddie," Eda says, looking up from the blanket she's knitting, "I think Alistair and I should be heading back to Ferelden soon."

Her cousin jerks her head up sharply, jostling the babe suckling at her breast slightly, "What? _Why?!_ "

She laughs slightly and puts her needles onto her lap, "It's been a couple of months and Alistair and I need to get back to our house in Denerim." She smiles slightly, a chuckle rising in her throat, "I'd rather come home to a few squatters than a basement full of blood mages – It wouldn't be the first house in Denerim to be full of them."

Freddie pouts, "Well, I suppose. I'll have a ship ready for you at the end of the week." She looks down, brushing her fingers through Ella's soft curls, "I don't know how I could have managed these last three months without you here."

Eda smiles, picking back up her knitting, "You could have. You're a better mother than you think. Be grateful for her health, though," she gestures to the infant, "She certainly made it easy." Freddie beams down at her daughter. "I've delivered babies that aren't half as easy as Ella, assuming their mother's dark circles are any indication." She looks, adoring, at the child deemed her niece. What she would give for a child as healthy as Ella. Maker, what she would give for a colicky baby like a few of those she'd delivered. But now, after spending more time with Freddie and Ella, Eda no longer felt envious of what her cousin had. Though reluctant, Freddie had been a good mother – gentle and caring, despite her brash laughter and the great sword in her office.

"Will you come back?" She asks, gently pulling her teat from the sleeping child's mouth.

Eda nods, needles clicking softly, "Of course. Alistair and I need to continue our search for the cure, but we will come back to Kirkwall." She scrunches her nose slightly, smile quirking into a smirk, "Perhaps for this one's first birthday." Freddie stands, and Eda puts down her knitting again, joining her as they head off toward the nursery.

"Oh!" Freddie cries, "Don't say that! She's too little to start thinking about her first birthday!" Eda laughs, placing a hand on her cousin's shoulder.

"I know, but she's already getting so big." The little girl was positively growing like a weed. Her hair was getting longer, her eyes bluer. She was smiling now and giggling. The week before, Freddie had been horrified to find a nub of a tooth growing into Ella's mouth. In fact, she was almost big enough to fit into the sky-blue dress Eda had stitched together on her boat ride to the Free Marches nearly four months ago. With every giggle, though, Eda hears her own lost child, picturing the face she had dreamt of. A little boy with bright red hair, the colour her own had been before she had greyed so early in her life, and amber eyes, freckles dotting his cheeks and shoulders. How she would love to kiss those freckles and brush her hand through his hair as her cousin did with Ella. How she wished the blanket she was knitting could have been for him.

"Oh, hush, Aunty Eda," Freddie says with a pout, placing the sleeping girl into the cradle, "Don't make my baby grow up too fast."

She smiles as a teardrop forms in her eye, "Nothing I do could stop her from getting big."

Freddie huffs, "But you're a mage. The most powerful mage in Ferelden, if not in Thedas, can't you cast some spell to keep her little forever."

"No," Eda says, rolling her eyes, smile firmly plastered on her face, "You would want her to grow up anyway. Imagine all the stuff an Amell girl can get into. Then triple it because she's _your_ daughter, not just any Amell girl."

She laughs, shutting the nursery door with one last smile back at the babe, "I guess you're right. How will we protect the world from her?"

"How could she be worse than her mum?"

"Oh, _Maker help me_ if she is. Kirkwall cannot survive both of us," she says, beaming, hands on her temples. She yawns.

"You must be exhausted after last night," Eda says, resting her hand on her cousin's shoulder once more. Ella had been up crying all night after cutting that tooth. "Go on to sleep. I'll handle everything that comes in for you. Well, Selwyn and I will. Don't worry about anything."

Hawke places her hand on Eda's, "Maker bless you." She yawns again and heads off in the direction of her own room. Eda smiles at her retreating back and rushes off toward the parlor to finish her knitting – hopefully she can finish the blanket for Ella before she must leave for Ferelden.


	12. Year 9

She greets the pear tree in the garden every morning on the way into the market district. He leans out the window to tell it goodnight before he strips to go to bed. Eda knits beside the small sapling in the summer. The tree is their child, planted over the soft and crinkled letter she wrote nearly two years ago.

“We’ll be back soon,” she says, blowing a kiss to the little tree as they set off, her staff in hand. Alistair smiles and lifts the pack onto his shoulder, slinging the shield on after.

“Are you going to be okay? Leaving it behind?” He says, wrapping his free arm around her shoulder.

Eda nods, “I think so. It’s about time.”

“One day we’ll have little ones swinging from those branches,” Alistair says softly, carding his fingers through Eda’s hair.

She nods again, “One day, when we’ve found the cure.” They’ve decided to stop trying until the cure for the Calling is found. Even if she could bear a child now, their child would barely reach adulthood before Eda and Alistair died from the taint. Leaving an orphan seems worse than never bearing children at all.

He smiles. “When we’ve found the cure,” he agrees.

So, they set off.

_Dearest Freddie,_

_Alistair and I are off on our search again. We think we may have found something! That flower, Andraste’s Grace, when enhanced with an even mixture of deep mushrooms, elfroot, and distillation agent seems to cure the taint from people infected with it, like the not-quite broodmothers in the Deep Roads. We haven’t tried it personally yet, but some of the older Grey Wardens in Orlais claim that when they take it with each meal for two weeks, their dreams of darkspawn fade. Can you believe it?! Potion ingredients and a wildflower! I can’t believe it has taken us so long! We’ll be starting on it in a few weeks, just to make sure there are no weird side effects on humans (the dwarves and elves have been fine so far)._

_How are you doing? And my sweet Ella? I hope we’ll be in Kirkwall when her birthday comes around, but for now we’re in Val Royeaux. These Orlesians! Their fashion is the worst. I was planning on buying you and Ella new dresses, but, Maker, not in Orlais. I’ll get you some when we get back to Denerim. Or whatever big non-Orlesian city we reach next._

_Well, give your girl my love. And tell Varric that I am eagerly awaiting his next serial; it’s all I read anymore. That man has ruined me for good literature. I don’t think Alistair really gets most of it, but he entertains my ramblings about them._

_Love you always,_

_Eda_

_P.S. give my niece kisses for me_

She folds the letter, sealing the envelope with the blue wax and warden seal Nate sent her weeks ago. He’s surely tired of receiving important news about the cure in what looks like inconspicuous mail from an old friend. She runs her fingers along the thick parchment, much finer than the letter now under her pear tree. _Orlais certainly is something_ she thinks, staring out the window at the oddly dressed passers-by. They wear masks and large hats, heeled shoes on both women and men alike.

Eda glances down at her own feet, covered in the soft brown boots that she received so many years ago from Irving. Nothing could replace those boots. Certainly, no frilly Orlesian lace heels. Her staff rests in the corner of the room they’re renting, a dull violet glow illuminating the armchair where Varric’s serial sits. She’s nearly finished it, barely being able to put down the nigh ridiculous love story.

She strides over to the armchair, plucking the novella from where it rests. She opens it and smiles at the writing on the front inner cover.

**Happy reading! Varric says he’s working on the next one as I’m writing this. You have become his favourite editor. Love you, cousin. Happy birthday.**

**Ella says she loves you and can’t wait to see you again (all speculation of course. She won’t say anything but “Mumma” and “Va-ic” yet, but I know she means it when she tries to eat that blanket you made her.)**

**Come back to Kirkwall soon. When you’ve gotten all the Grey Wardens cured. And have saved the whole entire world again. You’re too much, little cousin.**

Eda grins fondly at the inscription, followed by a charcoal scribble in the corner, no doubt done by Ella. Her thumb traces the scribble, smiling at the thought of the blonde babe she hadn’t seen in months. They really would have to stop by Kirkwall once they were sure of the cure’s potency.

She snaps the book closed again, saving the last two chapters for the boring meeting of nobility she was, for whatever wild reason, required to attend in the next few days, instead picking up the ambitious knitting project she had started—a small stuffed dragon for Ella. Even if she didn’t make it to the child’s first birthday, she would certainly have it ready for the next time she stepped foot in Kirkwall.


	13. Year 10 - Part 1

The letter arrives at their house in Denerim early in the morning, the blue wax is sealed with the crest of the Grey Wardens. Eda slides her finger under the wax, breaking the seal with a soft pop and pulls open the letter. Its hastily written, the beautiful looping calligraphy slanted in places, so unlike the usual letters from Vigil's Keep.

_**Dear Eda,** _

_**Please do come to Amaranthine when you get the chance. The recruits and wardens wish to congratulate you and laud you as a hero. Of course, Alistair is welcome as well; they do love to hear the stories of the slaying of the archdemon just as much or more than they like the tale of the Mother and the Architect.** _

_**Velanna, Oghren, and I wish to see you as well. Well, I assume Oghren would like to see you. I don't really understand the man beyond his ale, even after spending near ten years with him. But Velanna and I are excited to see you.** _

_**Sincerely,** _

_**Nathaniel Howe** _

Eda smirks lightly, "Nate sounds excited about something." Alistair looks up from his mug of tea.

"This is the same Nate you handed over your title to?" He asks, eyebrow quirked. She nods, laughing. "Doesn’t sound like the same guy."

"I guess he can be excited about some things. He was less stoic at his wedding, remember? But you're right," she says, tapping a finger against her lips, "I wonder what he's so excited about."

The pair make their way out to Amaranthine the next morning, arriving at the keep in the late afternoon. The guards greet Eda with a salute and stand at attention as their former commander enters the keep. She is halted in her tracks by a sight in the courtyard.

Next to the statue of Andraste, quite too close to the bride of the Maker and too permanent, stands a beautiful marble statue of Eda. "Maker," she breathes, eyes wide, a grimace turning on her lips.

Alistair lets out a bark of laughter, "They built a statue of you? Wonder where I can get one of those to stare at when you're away."

She smacks his arm, still staring with something akin to disgust at the statue, "You've got paintings. This is a little much, isn't it? I'm certainly no Andraste!"

The statue is perfect, Eda's braids perfectly placed, her face is showing an expression of power. She stands, wearing the Grey Warden robes, holding the large staff vertical. Eda gulps, "I'll have to talk to Nate about this. Not something I particularly wanted to see when I got here." She shakes her head as Alistair remains transfixed on the perfect rendering of his wife, "I'm going to have to have some words with Nate." He laughs at his wife's grumbling and takes her hand, leading her onward to the steps up to the large front door. They climb the stairs, hand in hand.

Upon reaching the top, she releases Alistair's hand and knocks twice on the large wooden doors. It echoes dully within the large stone chamber she knows lies beyond. The doors are opened by a pair of guards, a young man and woman who look positively star-struck when they see the two wardens before them. "Wel-welcome to Vigil's Keep, my Lady!" The woman stutters, dropping her eyes to Eda's feet. Eda smiles warmly at the young woman, no older than twenty.

"Thank you. I believe I was to meet the commander at the door?" She asks kindly, struggling to keep her lips from curling into a smirk.

The man on her other side speaks up, "Commander Howe is arranging supper for tonight. I, uh, I can direct you to the kitchens, if you want?" He is fidgeting, wringing his hands, and making awful clanging noises with his steely gauntlets.

Alistair laughs softly, "Of course! Show us into the kitchen." He turns to Eda, wide grin on his face, "You know, for all the little time I've spent here, I don't think I've ever been in the kitchen. What am I missing?"

"Oh, not much, my love," she says, twining her arm with his, "Just the best meat and cheeses in Amaranthine. You know the stuff they deem leftovers have the best taste."

"Of course," he says with a chuckle, "All the highbrow food is just lean beef and under-aged cheese. And you know how I like my cheeses."

"Oh, I know," she says, rolling her eyes, grin plastered on her face. She looks back at the young man to her left, "Please, Ser...?"

He stands at attention further, the metal on his plate armor squeaking as he straightens, "Ser Antony, my Lady!"

"Ser Antony," Eda continues, "please do take us on to the kitchens. It has been too long since I have seen my dear friend." He salutes and calls another man to the door. This one is older and only smiles and nods to Eda and Alistair. They leave, following Ser Antony, barely catching the reverent whispers of the young woman that greeted them.

Antony's and Alistair's boots click on the hard stone as they make their way down the corridor away from the parlor. Eda gazes around at the walls, full to bursting with portraits and paintings of wardens, young and old. _Nate's been doing some redecorating_ , she thinks, eyes falling on a painting so different from the rest. Instead of a handful of young men and women in blue robes and griffon embossed armor, this painting is softer. Nate's steely gaze settles on her from the painting, but his mouth shows a ghost of a smile. Of course, it is hard to hold a smile long enough for a painter to capture it, but he had managed it. _Sweet, stoic Nate._ But the smile is not such a surprise to her when her eyes trail down to see another set of blue eyes staring out at her. Velanna is seated at his side, her hair let down and brushing against her shoulders.

Eda touches her own hair, now significantly longer than her shoulders, as it was when she was the Commander of the Grey, as it is portrayed on the statue outside. Velanna is wearing a long, sweeping white gown. She realizes with slight distaste that the artist has left out Velanna's tattoos, something she will certainly have to have a talk with her and Nate about when they get the chance. Alistair reaches back, grabbing her hand softly, "C'mon, dear, we've got to get to the kitchens. You can admire their wedding portrait later."

"Alright. Alright!" She says, allowing him to tear her away from the rendering of her two dear friends. Antony leads on until they finally reach a short oaken door, from which myriad delicious smells are wafting.

Alistair takes a deep breath of the air before reaching for the handle, "Maker, that is heavenly." Eda grins, also relishing in the thick smell of frying oil and pepper. _It'll be nice to have some proper wealthy food again. If we aren't the only pair in Ferelden that can't cook a hen properly, then I'll be amazed. I_ miss _good food._ The door swings open, and the smell in the hall only grows.

"– And I want no less than four courses of the best game in Amaranthine. Only the best for the heroes of Ferelden," Nate dictates from the center of the kitchen. He turns to address a young girl plucking a pheasant when he notices the three figures in the doorway. His expression softens, and his shoulders release their tension, "Eda. Alistair. It's wonderful to have you here."

Eda beams and rushes into the kitchen to capture her old friend in an embrace, "It's wonderful to be here!" She pulls away quickly and plants a kiss on his cheek. He scrunches his nose, shaking his head fondly. "It really has been too long."

"It has," he says quietly, greeting Alistair, hand extended. Alistair takes it and pulls him in, clapping the narrower man on the back. He pulls away, reaching to place his hand where Alistair had hit him, "It is good to see you too, Alistair." He winces. Alistair blushes, scratching the back of his head.

"Sorry, Nate. I forget you're a scrawny archer," he says with a grin.

Nathaniel rolls his eyes and gestures to the buckles on Alistair's armor where Eda has driven new holes into the leather to accommodate him, "I thought you weren't eating, how did you put it, 'anything worth eating' while you were in Orlais."

Alistair guffaws, gesturing down to the leather straps as well, "It's all this not-fighting-darkspawn business. Guess I am getting a little soft." Eda smiles fondly at the men as Alistair begins to lead Nate away from the kitchen. "So how is that lovely wife of yours?"

Nathaniel shakes his head, "You better not let her hear you call her lovely. Nearly bit my head off when I first told her that."

He chuckles, "I'll keep that in mind. But really, how is she? The cure worked for you all?"

"Like you won't believe, my friend," he says. Eda trails behind, admiring the portraits of each and every warden. _Ten years ago, there were two of us in Ferelden. Now there must be two, three dozen wardens here. I can't believe it_ , she thinks, lost to the world as she admires the portrait of her first recruits standing proudly in the throne room. She's in the middle, Nate and Anders flanking her. Velanna stands beside Nate, so distant compared to now. Sigrun beams beside Anders. Oghren stands beside her, hand on the pillar for support. Justice stands on the other side, his cold eyes rendered softer than she remembers them. What a crew they were... The first wardens of Ferelden since the Blight and only three of them still standing. Sigrun went out the way she wanted, in battle and unafraid. Justice went back into the Fade, that much is undeniable. Spirits always do. But Anders... He was so dear, so kind. But she has the memories of him at least, something his own daughter will never have. _One day, when she's older_ , Eda thinks, _I'll bring her here, show her who he was when he was a young man who just wanted to be free._

"Coming, love?" Alistair asks, leaning away from his conversation to rouse Eda from her memories. She nods and follows the men, skipping slightly to catch up.

"So, Nate, how are you? Your letter was a bit urgent," she says, placing her hand on his shoulder.

He smiles down at her, "The wardens just wanted to thank you in person."

"Thank me?" She asks, eyebrow cocked, "Like with that statue outside?" She puts a hand on her hip, staring quizzically up at the man.

"Not my idea, I swear," he says, hands raised in defense. "It is quite good though, don't you think."

Alistair grins, "Yeah, pretty close." Eda sighs. "Of course, nothing beats the real thing."

She shakes her head, "Flatterer." Nate chuckles. "Where is Velanna? I figured she would be making dinner plans with you. You two were always together the last time we were here; wouldn't let each other out of your sights."

He smiles fondly, "She's upstairs, readying a few rooms. I told her that’s what the servants are for, but she insisted upon doing herself."

"A few?" Eda asks, "I thought we were the only guests for tonight."

"Oh," Nathaniel stammers, "You are. But, erm, ah, you'll understand later. You know what," he says as they enter back into the throne room, "you two stay here. I'll run up and fetch her. She'll be able to explain it much better than I can." With that, Nate is off, leaving the Amells to watch after him with curiosity.

"What was that all about?" Alistair asks, turning back to Eda. She shakes her head, arms raised in question. "He's never been like that when I'm here. Was he like this when you were commander?"

"Never. What has gotten into him? He's always been so sure of what he's saying," she says, still shaking her head. "And Velanna? Arranging rooms? Seems off. She was always happy to let guests stay in a broom cupboard with a straw mattress. Nate was always the one to insist upon nice rooms for visitors."

Alistair shrugs, "Maybe it’s the cure? Giving them a new lease on life or something?"

She laughs, "Maybe. I still feel as old as ever."

"You? Old?"

"I'm older than you, dear."

"You're barely thirty, dear," he retorts, sarcasm dripping.

She sighs dramatically, "I'm _almost_ thirty-one. And look at these wrinkles." She points to the smile lines around her eyes. "And these!" She gestures to her breasts, only slightly lower than they appear on the statue. He raises an eyebrow, an exasperated smile forming. "And I've had white hair since I was sixteen."

He rolls his eyes, "Those wrinkles tell me that I make you happy." He kisses the corners of her eyes. "Your hair is beautiful. I don't know what I would do if I saw you as a redhead now." He runs his fingers through her hair, careful to avoid the braids. "And, as for those," he gestures to her breasts, "those are magnificent. You have nothing to mourn there and neither do I."

"Alistair!" She exclaims with a laugh. He leans down and presses a kiss to her lips. She sighs into the kiss, wrapping her arms around his neck. He places his hands on her hips, sliding them down and back to cup her behind. She lets out a small shriek, barely pulling out of the kiss. He chuckles and kisses her again. Eda leans in closer, until they are pressed flush against one another, deepening the kiss.

After a few more moments, he breaks the kiss, leaning his forehead against hers, "Maker, Eda, I love you."

"I love you too," she says, cupping his stubble covered jaw, bringing him back in for a peck on the lips. Someone above them clears their throat. The pair break away quickly, like kissing mages when they hear templars coming down the stairs, searching for the voice. After years of learning the reflex, Eda's hand comes to rest on her staff and Alistair's on his sword, stepping slightly in front of his wife.

"Don't worry," Nate says from the landing. The pair whirl to face him. "It's just us." He has his arm around his wife of five years, Velanna. Eda smiles to see her friends, but her smile drops, and her eyes blow wide as she notices Velanna's midsection. The woman, always petite even compared to most elves she's known, is sporting a rather large belly, her flowing blue dress cinched right under her bust to allow it enough space. Nate beams, "Oh, Eda, we were so excited to tell you!"

Eda takes a measured breath, before attempting to pull a sincere smile onto her lips, "I'm so happy for you." Alistair releases the hilt of his sword, instead making to put a casual, yet protective arm around her waist. She is shaking, if only slightly. Her gaze shifts up to Velanna's eyes, softer than she has ever seen them, "How far along are you?"

Velanna smiles fondly down at her belly, "Around six or seven months. I'm not really sure exactly. It was an accident, you know."

Her heart shatters. "An accident?" She manages, blinking back tears as Alistair's arm squeezes her tighter. "But you're happy, I see."

"Oh, yes," Velanna says matter-of-factly. "We're wardens. I never really considered it possible. Then you found that cure and, well, we didn't exactly stop doing what we were doing before."

"Velanna – " Nate chokes out, face turning red as a beet.

She waves him off, "They've been married longer than we have. She understands." Eda nods weakly. "And well, I'm not really sure when it happened. But I'm glad it did," she intertwines her fingers with Nate's, "We can't really imagine not having him in our lives now."

Eda presses her hand to her mouth, trying to stifle a sob. She manages it and asks, as brightly as she can manage, "Him?"

Nate shrugs, beginning to walk down the stairs with Velanna, "She's just positive about it. I told her that there's no way we could know until its born, but she insists."

"It's because I'm a healer, Nate," she says pointedly. He opens his mouth. "You're an archer. You wouldn’t know. Trust me, Eda," she approaches the Amells, "You'll know when you get pregnant. Like you can feel exactly who they are inside you."

"Right," she manages, casting her eyes at her feet.

"Nate, Velanna," Alistair begins calmly, holding Eda against his side, "You're going to have to excuse us for a minute. Where is our room? I'd rather like to finish what you so _graciously_ interrupted."

Nate laughs, his cheeks pinkening, "Of course. Upstairs in the east wing. Third room down. You should get unpacked while you're up there as well. We'll see you at dinner."

Alistair nods, guiding Eda up the stairs. She presses her hand to her mouth as soon as their backs are turned. Alistair waves back, not turning around, "See you then. Congratulations."

When they are out of sight of the throne room, he presses a kiss to her hair as she lets her tears spill over. "I'm so sorry, love," he says, turning her to face him and burying her in his arms. She sobs into his chest for a moment, holding him tightly around the waist for support. "We can go. I'll tell Nate. You shouldn't have to go through this," he runs his fingers through her hair. He wets his lips, tasting sorrow.

"No," she says into his breastplate, "I should be there for them." She looks up at him through her tears, "If she really doesn't know when she conceived, this baby could come at any time. Nearly all healers are helping out that Herald of Andraste person with their Inquisition. What if she needs help? I couldn't forgive myself if she had problems, and I was at home trying to pretend she and Nate have any more valid reason to have children than us."

"Eda," he pleads softly, "you can't pretend what happened to us didn't either. If we're going to stay, then we've got to tell them." He tilts her head up to look him in the eye. He wipes the tear trails away from her tattooed cheeks gently, "I can't watch them say things like that to you. They 'can't imagine' life without the child. 'When you get pregnant'. Eda, you were shaking."

She tries to smile, "She's right though." He hums in question, brushing her loose hairs behind her ear. "About knowing. _Feeling_ who the babe is. _Knowing_ him."

"Ours was...?" He asks, a tear dripping down his cheek.

Eda nods, "I dream about him all the time. Red hair and freckles, and he's so brave and strong. He's positively mischievous, Alistair." She presses her hand to her abdomen, whispering, "My dear boy."

"Oh, Eda," Alistair says, wrapping her in his arms again. They stand there in the corridor for several minutes, relying entirely on one another to hold them up. Eventually they make it to the room Velanna has prepared for them, shutting the door tightly and collapsing onto the bed together, holding tight as if their lover is the only anchor to the real world remaining until night falls.

"Come on," Eda says, forcing a smile and extricating herself from Alistair's tight embrace, "We have a dinner to attend."

He wipes tear trails from his face and then from hers, "Pretend everything's fine?"

She nods, "We've been doing it for three years. This isn't any different."

He forces a smile, swallowing the last of his sobs, "Why should it be? We're here to celebrate the cure and new life. Any new life is worth celebrating."

"Even if it isn't ours," she says, smiling tersely.

"Even if it isn't ours," he mimics, standing from the bed. Linking arms, they begin the agonizing journey back to the real world. The real world full of hero statues and portraits of dead friends and accidental pregnancies that make people like the Howes ecstatic.


	14. Year 10 - Part 2

"Nate, can we talk?" Alistair says, clapping his hand onto the shorter man's shoulder after dinner. The other wardens had all dispersed after dining and congratulating Eda and him for finding the cure.

Nathaniel's eyebrows raise, "Of course. What about?"

Eda smiles briefly, "Well, Velanna too. In private?"

"Of course," he says again, wetting his lips cautiously. "Is everything okay? You were a little distant at dinner, but the recruits were a little much."

"It isn't that," she says as the four of them exit the dining hall and enter the parlor. Nathaniel waves away the guards posted at the door and shuts it behind them.

"What do you need to talk to us about? Is it the whole statue thing? I know it’s a lot, but we can't really tear it down now," he says, hand never leaving his wife's waist.

Eda smiles softly at her own feet, "The statue's fine, Nate. I don't mind the recruits' questions. It's something much more personal."

Velanna raises her brows slightly, "Oh?" She gestures at her own belly, "Is it this? I know it's been a while for you, but it'll happen sooner or later, now that you're cured."

Alistair holds up his hand, "Velanna, please. It's not as easy as that." He wraps his arm around Eda's quivering shoulders, "There's something we haven't told you."

The pair sitting on the sofa across from them exchange glances. Velanna's eyes soften slightly. Nathaniel's lips thin as he presses them together. "We _are_ happy for you. But it hurts to see you capable of something we want so desperately," Eda says softly.

"I'm sorry, Eda. We weren't thinking. You have been trying for so long," Nate says, releasing Velanna's hand to reach for his former commander's.

"It wouldn't be so bad if it was just the infertility," Eda says, her amber eyes resting on the bare patch of sofa between the other couple's heads. Alistair squeezes her hand, prompting her to continue. "We should have told you. It's been three years, and the only one we've told is my cousin," she takes a shaky breath, "Three years ago, we thought we were... I _knew_ I was pregnant." She shifts her gaze to look directly into the elf's icy blue eyes, not too unlike Freddie's, and Ella's by extension, "You were right when you said that thing about just knowing." She swallows, wetting her lips. Alistair squeezes her hand again, looking down at his boots and covering his lips with a loose fist. "It was early, but I knew. Our child, our _son_ , he never –" her voice breaks as tears fill her eyes, " _I_ didn't –"

Alistair releases her hand, instead turning and pulling her to his chest. Her composure slips as soon as she's in his arms, and they're both sobbing again, as if Nate and Velanna are nothing but statues. He runs his hand along her hair, gently caressing the back of her head. She clings to his shoulders.

Nate's voice breaks them from the intimate moment, "I am so sorry." He swallows audibly and stands, "I don't know what to say." Velanna remains seated, her expression dumbstruck.

Alistair presses a kiss to Eda's hair and pulls away just enough to speak, still holding her in his arms, "You don't have to say anything. You've got everything to be happy about. We aren't mad."

"The least we could have done was warn you in the letter. The shock must have hurt worse than anything," Nate says, running his hand through his long hair.

Eda shakes her head, still nestled against Alistair's chest, "No. What hurt the most was the fact that you weren't even trying." She pulls back quickly, eyes showing betrayal as she gazes upward to the heavens, "You two. And Freddie! Maker, why?! How can you give children to people who don't want them while you leave me barren as the desert!?" She collapses back, hands covering her eyes. "I don't understand," she whispers quietly, shaking her head.

Nate and Velanna blink in surprise, Nate taking an instinctive step away from her at the outburst. Alistair rubs his wife's shoulder and looks back up at Nate, "I'm going to take her back up to the room. We can talk some more tomorrow."

Velanna speaks quietly as Alistair lifts Eda to her feet, "We're sorry. You should go on back to Denerim in the morning. We never wanted to hurt you."

Eda turns back, a weary smile tugging at her lips, eyes softening, "I can't do that. Just because it hurts me, that doesn't mean I shouldn't be here for you. Labor is dangerous, and I'm about the only healer that hasn't been summoned to the Inquisition. You'll need help." She opens her mouth to respond. "I know you're very strong, but most women need help, strong or not. And if you don't know how far along you are, this child could come any time. My cousin's girl came early, and I don't know if that was because of the taint or not."

"The taint?" Nate asks cautiously, "But Bethany's sister isn't a Grey Warden. She's not tainted."

Eda turns back fully, gently extricating herself from Alistair's hold. "She's not," she confirms, "but Ella's father was. You'd recognize him if you saw her. He's smiling at us from so many paintings in the hall."

Nate furrows his brows in thought, "Your cousin is in Kirkwall, isn't she? That's where Anders ran off to, so long ago." Eda nods. "You said 'was'; is Anders... dead?" She nods again, wiping the tear trails from her cheeks.

Alistair gently squeezes Eda’s arm, whispering, “Come on, dear. This is too much for one night.”

She shakes her head, “It’s okay. They should know. They were his friends too.” She turns back to Nate and Velanna, “That’s something else I should have told you when we got back from the Free Marches. I hope one day Freddie and Ella can come here so that she can show her daughter what her father looked like. But she may as well just look in the mirror. Ella looks just like him, all but the eyes, at least.”

“That must be hard for your cousin,” Velanna says, running her hand through her hair.

“It is,” she briefly considers telling them that Freddie not only has to deal with seeing the face of the man she loved, but also the man who betrayed her every day of her life in the form of her sweet child. She shakes her head slightly, such that neither of the Howes notice, “She misses him a great deal.”

“How did he…” Nate begins.

“In a fire,” Eda says quickly. She wipes her eyes once more, “I need to get up to bed. It’s been a draining day. We’ll see you in the morning.”

Velanna slips her hand into Nate’s, “Only if you’re sure you want to stay.”

Eda glances back over her shoulder, “I’m sure, Velanna. I just need the night to process everything. I _am_ happy for you, you know.”

Alistair puts his arm around his bride’s shoulder, nodding a goodnight back to the Howes. Once they are out of earshot, he leans down to whisper, “Are you sure you’re okay, my love?”

She nods, “I’m sure. It was almost a relief. And now they know about Anders too. I hated keeping it from them.” Alistair nods and kisses the top of her head. She looks up at him, brushing her hand along his cheek as they enter the bedroom, “Are _you_ okay? You are always taking care of me, but I know this has to be killing you too.”

He smiles weakly, tears beginning to form in his eyes, “It hurts you more.”

“Nonsense,” she brushes her thumb across his moist eyes, “you want children as much as I do. You were the one ready to tell the whole world before we lost him.” She presses a soft kiss to his lips, “Stop being so strong.” He throws his arms around her waist, bending slightly to lean onto her shoulder. She runs her fingers through his hair over and over as he shakes slightly. But her shoulder stays dry until he presses a warm, wet kiss to her collar bone affectionately. He leans back and cups her face in one hand.

“Maker, you are the best thing to have ever happened to me,” he runs his thumb along her cheek. She turns into his hand, closing her eyes and sighing softly. “What did I ever do to deserve you?”

She turns her face to kiss the palm of his hand, “I love you.” He leans forward and kisses her forehead, humming his reply softly.


	15. Year 10 - Part 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for slightly graphic birth scene. It's nothing terrible, but if you don't want to read about a birth, skip to the endnotes.

“Come on, little one,” Eda says, wrapping the moist towel around the back and backside of the infant, dangling out of his mother as she sits at the edge of the bed. Velanna lets out a shriek when Eda gently releases the babe, letting him do his own work exiting his mother. “Velanna, this is going to hurt, but I promise it will be okay,” she says, gently slipping two fingers into her friend, reaching for the child’s leg. She latches her fingers around it and, pressing Velanna open a bit further with her other hand, pulls his leg into the world. Velanna shrieks, grasping the sheets tightly in her fists.

Nate calls out from the corridor at the shriek, “Is everything alright?” His voice is panicked. There is a soothing, deeper voice that follows. Eda can not understand it, but after the few births Alistair has sat with the fathers for, she knows just what her love is saying. ‘Don’t worry. She’ll be alright. She’s in good hands. You’ll have that little child in your arms in no time.’ She smiles briefly as she hears Nate’s soft footsteps go back to pacing right outside the door.

She nods to Velanna, “I’m going to do that again, so we can have both of his legs out.” Velanna grits her teeth and fists her hands tighter in the sheets. Eda keeps her eyes on the elf’s until Velanna nods. “Okay, now,” she says as she repeats the procedure. With both legs out and the boy’s arms resting limply on his tiny chest, Eda sighs to focus herself, “Now, when you feel the next contraction, you will feel me turn him so that I can ease his shoulders out. This won’t feel good.”

Velanna nods, dropping her head to her heaving chest, her bangs slicked to her forehead. On the next contraction, Eda turns the child slightly, and his shoulders emerge. Velanna screams. Another outburst comes from the hall. Eda turns slightly and calls, “Don’t worry, Nate. She’s doing beautifully. You’ll have your son in just a little bit.” She turns back to Velanna, “I’m going to let him hang on his own right now. You, stay still. That is very important.”

She swallows and nods, gasping as Eda releases the boy, moving her hands to beneath Velanna, posed to catch the child, “Now, push, Velanna. Push hard.” She reaches back up to turn the babe as soon as he begins to slip from his mother. She turns him gently until his head is born fully, the cord sliding out as well.

He’s breathing but not crying, his skin a dark, nearly purple color. Eda rubs her hands quickly on his back, imbuing them with her healing energy. She leans down to listen to his breaths; they’re shallow and sound wet. Before Velanna can question her, she clamps her mouth over the infant’s nose and sucks, pulling thin strings of mucous into her mouth and spitting it onto the floor. The boy begins to redden as he lets out a mighty wail. All tension in the room releases as Eda holds him up to his mother, “You have a son.”

She passes the child up to her friend and helps her lie back on the large piles of pillows, “You both did beautifully.” She bends down to begin clearing the area of bloody linens.

In a weary, breathy voice Velanna reprimands her, “Leave that for the servants. Get Nate.” Eda strides over to the door, throwing one last glance at Velanna and her child. She’s gazing at him with awe, tracing her index finger gently over his nose, an identical hooked miniature of his father’s. His black hair is thick and mussed with blood and mucous. She opens the door to find Nate pacing by, Alistair sitting against the stair rail.

Nathaniel’s eyes light up at Eda’s appearance, “You should go see your son.” He beams, and rushes toward his wife, propped up in the bed. “I haven’t gotten the chance to clean them up yet! And I still need to deliver the placenta! Just a few seconds and then back out,” she warns, smiling warmly at the man she recovered from the cell in the Keep’s dungeon so many years ago. He stops at the bed, blinking down at his son and running his hand through his wife’s hair.

“Oh, Velanna,” he says, leaning down to place a kiss on her head, “He’s perfect.” She smiles, eyes blinking closed.

“He looks just like you,” she says, voice dropping away on the last word. Eda’s smile drops from her face as she notices the growing bloodstain under the elf. She rushes back in, and ties a cord tightly around their son’s cord, slicing it with a knife.

“Nate,” she says, voice suddenly full of all seriousness, “Take your son into the hall. He’ll be fine for a few minutes. I need to help Velanna.”

Wide-eyed, he scoops the child into his arms, “Is she alright? I can’t lose her, Eda.”

Eda shakes her head, pulling the blanket that she had thrown over Velanna off, “She will be. I promise. Right now, I need you to think about your son. Don’t shake, he needs all the support and strength you can give him.” She lays her hands on Velanna, sending healing waves into her body. The blood slows slightly, but Velanna’s breathing is still wavering. She grasps for a poultice on the dresser beside her. She places it to Velanna’s mouth, encouraging her to drink. Eda throws back a lyrium potion as well and presses more healing energy into her. The bleeding stops and Velanna’s uterus contracts, pushing the placenta out. Eda sighs in relief, placing it to the side in a large bowl from the kitchens. For the next half hour, Eda periodically heals Velanna and cleans around the room. Velanna remains conscious, but only barely.

“What are you going to call him?” Eda asks, trying to keep her engaged and awake.

Velanna hums sleepily, “Don’t know. Nothing too much like a shem.” Eda laughs quietly with her.

“You married a ‘shem’,” Eda says softly, rinsing her hands in a pot of warm water.

“Me? Never,” Velanna says, a soft smile forming on her lips as she leans back into the pillows.

“Yes you,” Eda says, turning back to shake Velanna awake gently, “Nate Howe ring a bell?”

Her smile grows, and she hums, “He mentioned ‘Garrick’. I like that.” Her eyes snap open, and she glances about the room, “Where is he?”

“Out in the hall,” Eda says, running her fingers through her friend’s hair.

Velanna crinkles her nose, her biting edge returning to her voice, “Why?” Eda sighs in relief to see her disdain returning.

“Someone had to take care of your son while you were recovering from labor,” she says, checking under the blanket again. The bloodstain is the same size it was before and is beginning to dry. Eda sighs again, tension in her shoulders releasing.

“Can he come back in now?” she asks softly, reaching out to touch Eda’s hand. Eda smiles and nods, crossing the room. She opens the door gently to the two men. Alistair has barely moved in the last thirty minutes. Nate is no longer pacing, simply leaning up against the wall, running his finger along his son’s gently pointed ear, staring at the opposite wall, tears drying on his cheek. He does not look up when the door opens.

Eda gently places her hand on his shoulder. He jumps and turns to face her, worry evident in his teary blue eyes. She smiles gently, “You can go see her now. She’s okay.”

Careful not to jostle the child in his arms, Nathaniel steps cautiously into their bedroom, “Velanna?”

She blinks and smiles softly at him, “Nate.” Eda watches with a warm smile as the pair she had recruited so many years ago sits together on the bed, holding the child as the oil lamp in the room burns dimly. Nate presses his face into Velanna’s hair as Eda hears shuffling from behind her. Alistair wraps his arm around her waist.

“Thank you for staying with him,” she says, tilting her head to rest against his shoulder, “I know it’s late.”

He brushes his hand up and down her side, “It’s nothing. He needed someone.” His tone drops, “Is Velanna alright? You were tending her for a while after you sent Nate and the baby out.”

“I think so,” she says, scrubbing a bit of sleep from her eye, “I’m going to sit with her the rest of the night though, to make sure.”

He turns her gently, appraising her blood-soaked tunic, “Are you sure? I could take a shift. Give her health poultices when she needs it. You’re the one who’s done all the work tonight.”

She shakes her head, “You’re sweet, but you’re no healer. I’m not sure poultices would be enough if she started bleeding like she was earlier. Alistair, it’s been a long time since I’ve seen that much blood.” He nods. “Can you run tell the kitchen staff to have her some red meats for breakfast? She is going to need more blood.”

He nods again, shifting his gaze to the little family cuddled together on the bed, “They sure are a sight, aren’t they?”

“Yes, they are,” she says, lips curling into a fond smile as they watch Nate’s long, slim fingers ghost through their son’s soft black hair. Velanna is smiling serenely, her icy blue eyes drifting closed, her breathing steady. “She’ll need some rest, but I need to make sure she’s only sleeping from being tired. Go on. I’ll see you in the morning,” she pecks him on the lips before going back into the Howe’s room.

Nate looks up from his son, eyes questioning and scared as Eda lifts the blanket once more. She smiles up at him and shakes her head, lifting Velanna’s legs gently to place another blanket below her so that her subsequent checks would be more accurate. Nathaniel smiles back, brushing his hand through his son’s hair again. His gaze shifts back down to their miracle.

Eda sighs, sitting down in a large overstuffed chair opposite the bed, _Thank the Maker they’re okay. Keep her safe. Keep me vigilant. Andraste,_ she turns to the window, gazing out at the statue beside hers in the courtyard, _thank you_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, for those of you who chose to skip the chapter, here are the highlights.  
> Velanna had the baby after a hard labor.  
> The baby is a boy named Garrick.  
> She hemorrhaged, but thanks to *magic*, she's okay.  
> Nate cried a lot because he almost lost his wife.  
> Everyone is happy and okay now!


	16. Year 11

“Dear,” Eda begins, looking up from the notice posted on the city gate, “did you know that Herald was an elf?”

“No,” he shrugs, paying for the loaf of bread, “Why do you care if she’s an elf?”

She sighs, shrugging slightly and glancing toward the chantry, “It’s not that she’s an elf. You know I don’t really care about that. But she’s _Dalish_. How can she be the Herald of _Andraste_ if she doesn’t even believe in Andraste?” Alistair wraps his arm around her waist as they head back toward their small home.

“Maybe she was sent to give validation to the elves. We know that Andraste had help from the elves in her march on Tevinter. Could just be her way of saying ‘you know, maybe they shouldn’t be second class citizens’,” he says, smiling as he raises his tone in an imitation of a woman’s voice.

She giggles, leaning her head onto his shoulder, “Could be.” She turns slightly and taps his nose, “But you shouldn’t be mocking the bride of the Maker.”

He gapes in mock surprise, “Me? Mocking Andraste? Never. I’m a good chantry boy, remember.”

“Of course, I do. A good chantry boy who refused to bed me for ages. A good chantry boy who married a mage,” she beams and presses a kiss to his lips. He chuckles against her mouth.

“But you’re absolutely sure Andraste was a mage,” he says, pulling away enough to speak, a mischievous twinkle in his eyes, “I’m just following in the footsteps of the Maker.”

She raises her eyebrows high, dimples deepening, “You’re the Maker now, are you?” He rolls his eyes and shakes his head, rubbing his nose against hers. She giggles.

He presses his hand to his chest as if offended, “Me? The Maker? You’re the one who said it. And not for the first time if I remember last night correctly.”

Eda covers her mouth, eyes wide but crinkled in a grin. She smacks his arm lightly, “We are in the middle of the square, Alistair Amell!” A guardsman looks over at them, an eyebrow cocked. “See! People can hear you!”

“They can hear you too,” he whispers mockingly. He pulls her close to him, “Maybe you’re the one who should be a little quieter. I’m sure our neighbors would agree.”

“Alistair!” she shrieks.

He hums thoughtfully, “Not quite like that, but close enough.” He captures her lips again. She kisses back gently for just a bit before pulling away and turning.

“I’m going home,” she flashes a smile over her shoulder at her husband, “See you there?” She darts away as quickly as she can, casting an ice slick to slide on.

“Not fair!” he laughs as he runs to catch up, all the while holding tightly to the bread loaf. The pair laugh like teenaged sweethearts as passersby watch. The Orlesian woman who sells perfumes is smiling sweetly, a giggle on her lips. The chantry sisters watch, rolling eyes, shaking their heads gently, lips curving ever upwards. The soldiers sigh in frustration. Little kids pause in their games to watch the adults skipping about the city.

Eda reaches the door first and flings it open, slipping inside and slamming it behind her, giggling the whole time. She stifles her laughter and flattens herself against the wall. A moment later, Alistair opens the door, and she flings herself onto him, kissing him fervently.

He tosses the loaf to the side and catches her around the waist, lifting her and carrying her to their bedroom. He drops her onto the bed, leaning down to kiss her neck. Pulling back slightly, he appraises his wife, “Maker, you are something.”

She grins impishly, “Who’s calling who ‘Maker’ now?”

“Oh, hush, you,” he says, capturing her lips in a deep kiss once again.


	17. Year 12 - Part 1

She wakes one morning as the sun is rising only to fling herself from the bed and out of the house to retch in the garden. She wipes her mouth with the back of her hand and presses the other to her forehead. She isn’t warm, but her stomach is aching like she is ill. Suddenly, as if it were yesterday, memories of her lost pregnancy come flooding back.

The morning illness, the entire lack of blood in her smalls when she had expected it a week ago, the tiredness she had been feeling for the last few days, it suddenly all makes sense. Eda’s heart stops for a moment as she presses her hand to her abdomen. Now the dreams make sense! In the last few weeks, every dream Eda has had has been about their son and a new child. It changes night to night, from their son sitting in Alistair’s lap, curiously questioning his father about the new baby to him holding the child, seated on their bed, stroking the babe’s identical bright red hair.

A smile breaks across her face as she runs inside. She jostles Alistair awake, shaking his shoulder. He rolls over, groaning softly, opening his eyes to a squint. Above him, Eda’s smile is as wide as her mouth can manage. He blinks curiously, propping himself up on his elbow.

He returns her smile gently, adopting his usual fond smirk, “What’s got you so happy on this lovely freezing morning?”

She snatches the hand he’s not propped upon and presses it, under hers, to her abdomen. He looks curiously at their hands and then up at her where the twinkle has yet to leave her eyes. His furrowed eyebrows relax as his eyes light up with realization. “You’re…” he breathes, glancing fervently from her eyes to where their hands are pressed to her stomach.

Eda nods quickly, tears pricking at her eyes, squeezing his hand gently, “I didn’t put the symptoms together until I retched in the garden this morning. It must be near a month or so. I can’t believe I hadn’t really noticed yet!” She laughs lightly, putting a hand to her forehead and shaking her head. Alistair scrambles out of the bed, kneeling in front of her, leaning forward until his head is pressing against her stomach. He kisses her belly, and she smiles fondly, running her fingers through his sleep-mussed hair.

He looks up into her eyes, placing his hands on her hips gently, “I—Oh, Eda. I don’t know what to say.” He beams, “I’m so happy.” She hums softly in contentment as he kisses her stomach again.

She gazes out the window to see the sun rising, casting a warm pink glow over their garden. Her eye catches the short pear tree, and her smile falters slightly, “Alistair, what if—”

“Shh,” he hushes her, “It's going to work this time. It will. We’re cured now. And Nate and Velanna could have a son, so why shouldn’t we?” He stands up and wraps his arms around her waist, leaning down to kiss her forehead. She softens in his grasp, bringing her own arms up to wrap around his neck. He pulls back gently, “Think about it: we’ll finally be parents. This kid will be wonderful. They’ll be kind like you and strong.” He taps her nose, beaming, “They’ll have your little button nose and the most ubiquitous eyes in all of Thedas.”

She laughs, rolling her own amber eyes, “And freckles.” She pokes at the speckles dotting his cheeks, “So many freckles. And they’ll be perfect, Alistair.” She sighs, sinking into his arms, “We’re finally going to have a family, my love. I’ve been dreaming about it for so many years.” A tear drips onto his bare shoulder.

Alistair brings his thumb up to wipe his wife’s tear streaks away, “Me too.” He kneels back down and points an accusing finger at Eda’s belly, “Now you’d better stay put. Your mumma and da are going to want to meet you.”

Eda laughs, her eyes sparkling more than they have in five years. “Oh, Andraste. Thank you,” she whispers, closing her eyes tightly and brushing through her love’s hair.


	18. Year 12 - Part 2

“Alistair!” she calls from the bedroom. He comes running, eternally on edge and panicked, dropping the knife he has been using.

He bursts through the door, expression pained and eyes wide only to find Eda perched calmly on the bed, scissors in one hand and her robes in the other. She is sitting cross-legged, wearing only her smalls and breastband. She meets his eyes, an eyebrow cocked, “Are you alright? I just wanted to ask if you could get my sewing needles and thread from the other room.” She holds up a snapped needle, dropping the robes so that they rest on her knee, “My needle just broke.”

He releases the breath he has been holding, face softening, “Of course. I just thought—”

“I know,” she says gently, putting down the scissors and sliding the robe off her lap. Eda eases herself off the bed, crossing the room to put her hand on his cheek, “It's okay. It's more than okay.” She takes his hand and places it on her bare belly, “I’m having to let out all my clothes. The robes, the tunics, leggings, everything.” She beams up at him. He rubs a time-softening calloused hand over the soft skin of her stomach, gazing at her with an awe he has yet to lose over the past month.

“We never got this far before,” he says, leaning down to press their foreheads together. She smiles and leans up to kiss him gently.

Eda pulls back after a short moment, “I know, love.” She rubs her nose against his, “But I’m really going need to fix up these robes if I am to leave the house at all in the next few months.”

He quirks his head to the side, “Don’t women typically wear different clothes when they’re pregnant?”

“Sometimes,” she says thoughtfully, “But I don’t know. I always just preferred the idea of wearing my normal clothes. That’s what the few mages that got pregnant in the Circle did. Just let out their robes until they fit.”

“What about when this little one,” he gestures down to her belly, smiling fondly, “gets too big for your clothes? Those seams can’t be big enough to fit a whole full-size baby in there too.”

She laughs gently, “I know some women who sew panels into the sides of their dresses so that they’ll still fit.” Alistair rolls his eyes.

“Can’t we just fix this one and then go out and find some merchant to sell you clothes that will fit?”

“Not yet,” she says, her bright eyes dulling, “I don’t want anyone else to know yet. It’s still early. What if we lost this one too?” She drops her gaze to stare at the small bump beginning to show from her normally flat abdomen.

Alistair cups her chin and brings her back up to look into his eyes, “We can’t think like that. This one’s our chance. We’re cured now. And with Garrick and Ella being children of wardens, we know it can happen.”

Eda nods, biting at her bottom lip, “You’re right. But we’d better keep it to ourselves for now. Our little secret.”

He grins, “Little for now.” He runs his hand along her belly again and kneels to kiss her there. His eyes flutter shut, “Maker, I can’t believe this. Finally, after ten years. I’m going to be a father.” At the quiet realization, his eyes snap back up to hers, “Maker. I’m going to be a father. Eda, what if I’m no good at it?”

“You?” she smirks kindly, brushing her hand over his stubble-covered cheek, “The kindest, most protective man I’ve ever met? The man who sneaks sweets into the pockets of the kids who live in the chantry?” He opens his mouth to protest. She holds up a finger to his lips, “Don’t think I haven’t noticed you doing that after the weekly services. The only thing I don’t know is where you are getting the candies from. And where you keep them from week to week.”

He chuckles, scratching his neck as a soft blush creeps across his cheeks, “I’m allowed one secret, aren’t I?”

Eda rolls her eyes, dimples deepening, “Just the one, I guess.” She turns serious again, “But, now don’t you see it? You’re going to be a wonderful father. I know your father never spent any time with you, but that doesn’t mean you can’t be a good parent. Remember, I was under Chantry supervision by the time I was ten too.” He smiles, standing back up and wrapping his arms around her. “Don’t you think I wonder what kind of mother I’ll be?”

He kisses her lips gently, “You’ll be wonderful. You knew how to care for Ella when Freddie didn’t. You’re always knitting her things. And you’ve been so loving toward Garrick. Eda, you have a way with children.”

“So do you, but,” she licks her lips, “Maker only knows what I’ll be like when they get older. I spent all my teenage years in study in the Circle. I don’t even know what young people typically do.”

Alistair laughs softly, “One day at a time then, I guess. We’ll just have to wait until she gets here.”

Eda raises her eyebrows, “She? You thought our boy was going to be a girl. Do you just really want a daughter so bad?”

“Either would be good,” he says, pecking her lips, “but I have always imagined raising a daughter. I guess I just like the idea of having someone to take care of. Boys pretend they’re men when they’re too young. I know I did.” He chuckles to himself, “But, Maker, the Blight certainly changed that. I was nineteen!”

“I know,” she says with a laugh, “I was only twenty-one. I hadn’t left the tower in eleven years, or at least not the Lake Calenhad area. I never expected to be able to live away from there. I guess I never expected to have anything like this: you, a child on the way, a home, freedom. And as much as being a warden has hurt us, I’m eternally grateful.” He smiles, running his thumb along her jaw. “If it wasn’t for the wardens, I’d be on the run as an apostate, now that the circles have collapsed. Or worse, I could have been part of all of the demon nonsense in the Circle during the Blight.” He caresses her hair, pushing it behind her ear. “And I never would have met you.”

“And I would have died at Ostagar,” he says simply. “I know I said that that’s what I wanted for so long while we were on the road, but I was so wrong. Now we have everything we have ever dreamt for. Sweet Maker, I never thought I’d get the chance to be a husband and a father.” She turns into his touch, pressing her cheek into his palm. “You’re the best thing to happen to me.”

A chuckle rises in her chest, “What was it you used to say? ‘One good thing about the Blight is how it brings people together’?”

He rolls his eyes, leaning away from her with a groan, “I never say anything worth repeating, do I?”

Eda laughs, turning to pick back up her robes and walks off in search of a new needle. She turns back slightly, a smile quirking her lips, “Only occasionally, dear.”


	19. Year 12 - Part 3

It is late one night when she feels it for the first time. They have just finished their dinner, a warm bowl of lamb and beans to stave off the cold late winter air. Alistair stands, collecting the bowls and takes them across to the washbasin beside the stove. She begins to stand as well, to make her way over to the sofa, to her knitting, when she pauses, a small surprised cry leaving her lips.

Alistair whirls around on the spot, eyes full of worry, “What’s the matter, Eda? Are you alright?” He places the bowls down beside the basin and rushes back over to his wife, dropping a hand to her growing belly.

She blinks, “I’m okay. That was just—oh!” Her hand drops to her belly as well. They remain silent for a moment before a grin creeps up onto her face, and she looks up to meet Alistair’s gaze. His eyes are glimmering as well, mouth open slightly in an expression of awe. “Kicking,” she breathes in disbelief.

He grins, wrapping her in his arms as tight as he can manage without crushing her. She clings tightly to his back, laughing lightly into his shoulder. “I can’t believe it,” she says with a giggle, “Finally.”

He pulls away from her a bit, just enough to look her in the eyes, “Now, I don’t know about you, but I’ve rarely heard of losing a child after feeling them.” Eda is beaming, nodding her head vigorously. “So,” he breeches the subject with a cheeky grin, “Is it time to tell the whole world yet?”

She laughs, “Not the _whole_ world. But I think I am ready to tell Freddie. And Nate and Velanna.” She taps his nose, “Maybe even start building on another room.”

“Another room?”

“Well, this baby can’t live in ours forever. And I want Freddie and Ella to come stay after she’s born, just like we did for them. They’ll need a place to sleep. This is no Hawke manor after all.” By the time she finishes her plans, Eda is beaming, glowing.

Alistair takes her face in his hands, pressing a soft kiss to her lips, “Of course. And I’d better get to asking that carpenter about the cradle. We’ve only got, oh, what is it, four months? Five?”

She shrugs an affirmative, “About that. I’d better write to Freddie! I want her to be here when this one comes. Maker knows, if the delivery is anything like Velanna’s, I’ll need all the help I can get.”

His expression darkens, “You don’t think it will be that bad, do you? Aren’t you going to want a healer with you too? Freddie may know some practical medicine, like bandaging wounds, but she’s no more of a healer than I am.” Eda cocks her head, considering his concerns. “Why not ask Velanna to help out? She’s a healer.”

“Maybe I will. It’ll really depend on what happens when the day comes. Amaranthine isn’t that far.”

“If you’re sure,” he says, concern deepening his light wrinkles.

“I am,” she says as she rubs his arm comfortingly. “I’ll feel more comfortable with Freddie prodding around down there than with Velanna. She can heal, sure, but she’s not really the gentlest.” He shrugs. “Maker, I wish Wynne was here.”

Me too!” Alistair says jovially, “We’ll have to see if we can have her come take a look at you. At this!” he gestures down to her belly. Eda giggles.

“That would be nice,” she says, picking up the blue yarn and knitting needles and sitting on the sofa where they once sat. She yawns and begins to knit.

He moves to stand behind the couch and drops his head to rest on the back, “What are you working on?”

She smiles serenely, the needles clicking against each other softly, “Just something for us to wrap her up in when we sit for the portrait. Nate said that we could use Garrick’s, but I just like the idea of her having her own for it.”

“Her?” Alistair asks with a knowing grin. He plays with her twisted braids gently, running his hand down them and back up, “So I heard right. I thought you said _she_ earlier.”

Eda nods, “I think so, at least. Plus, I think most women who have sons are showing more by the time they get this far.” She laughs nervously, pausing for a moment, “Unless, of course, she’s just very small. Garrick was tiny.”

He presses a kiss to the back of her neck, “Don’t worry about that. She’s still got plenty of time to grow.”

“She sure does,” she says, rubbing her hand over her bump as Alistair nestles his nose into her hair. “I can’t wait to see you,” she softly whispers to the child within her. She jolts again when she receives another small kick.

“Sounds like she wants to see you too,” Alistair says with a laugh, bringing his hand to rest on top of hers, hopeful to feel another kick.


	20. Year 12 - Part 4

Eda tosses the fur over her lap, attempting to cover her belly when she hears the soft rap at the door. Alistair sends her back a mischievous glance. She nods, and he drops the dough back to the counter, wiping his hands on the tea towel before crossing the room and opening the door. The heavy wooden door swings open to reveal the Howe family.

Nate is standing nearest the door, Garrick wrapped tightly in wools and furs in his arms. Velanna is beside him, holding a small basket. Nate smiles, reaching to wrap his free arm around Alistair, “Good evening! It’s so nice to finally spend some time at your home.” He looks around the small room, gaze settling on Eda and her place on the sofa. Making his way over to her, he speaks half to her, half to his son, “Garrick couldn’t wait to see his Aunty Eda. And she’s not going to even come to greet him at the door, how rude.”

The small boy smiles, “Rude.” He giggles and paws gently at his father’s shoulder. Nate puts his son down, and Garrick takes off, running across the rest of the room to reach Eda. She smiles down at the dark-haired boy and leans down to pull him up into her lap. Alistair pauses for a moment where he is taking Velanna’s cloak. He watches as Eda leans down, on hand on her stomach, giving Garrick her hand to help himself up onto the sofa beside her. He sits casually in her lap, picks up one of her knitting needles, looks it over, turning it in his hands, and looks back up at Eda, “Hi.”

“Hi,” she says with a laugh, “How was your trip?”

“Long,” he says with a yawn, “I’m sleepy.” He turns over the knitting needle again in one hand, scrubbing his bright blue eyes with the other

Eda laughs softly and runs her fingers through his hair, “Let’s get you to bed then.” She turns her gaze to Nate and Velanna and gestures to a doorway off the main room, “We actually had a room built on. It’s no Vigil’s Keep, but I hope it's up to your standards.”

Velanna waves her off, coming by to pick up her son who is yawning again, “It’ll be fine, Eda. I lived in the woods most of my life, if you’ll remember.”

“Of course,” Eda says with an understanding smile, beginning to stand. The fur slides off of her and onto the floor, and Velanna pauses, eyes dropping to Eda’s stomach.

“Are you—” she says, freezing when Garrick looks up into her eyes, his little eyebrows raised to question his mother.

He tugs gently at his mother’s robe, “Is she what? Is Aunty Eda okay?” He sends a worried look back to Eda, fully standing now.

“Oh, no sweetie. I’m okay. It’s a secret right now,” she whispers, tousling his hair. She kisses the gentle point of his ear, and he giggles. “I’ll tell you in the morning.”

“Okay,” he says quietly, laying his head down on Velanna’s shoulder.

Alistair crosses the room to open the door for the Howes, “Sleep well, you three.” He ruffles Garrick’s hair as Velanna passes him, “Night, kiddo. Have a good night.”

“Night,” the little boy says with a sleepy smile. Nate holds back for a short moment, resting his hand on his Alistair’s shoulder.

“Are you two finally…?” he asks, gesturing to Eda’s bump. Eda beams and Alistair nods, bringing his hand up to rest on Nathaniel’s, patting it happily.

Eda crosses to the men, nodding and resting her hand on the small bump, “We are. Alistair wants a “proper” healer to have a look at me.” She shoots her husband a smirk, “He doesn’t think I’ll tell him if I think anything is going wrong.”

“I’m sure Velanna can take care of you,” he says with a fond smile into the dark room where Velanna is laying down beside her son, still in her full robes. She has her arm around him, and he is curled into her side. Her soft voice rises quietly out of the room as she sings a lullaby in elvhen. “You know,” he says still watching his wife and son, “I had a nursemaid who used to sing in elvhen to me. It’s not a sound I expected to ever hear again. Not after Thomas was grown at least.” He shakes his head softly, looking back to Alistair and Eda, “Goodnight, my friends. You’ll have to tell us everything in the morning.”

Eda laughs softly, “Maybe not everything.” Nate blushes and laughs, rubbing the back of his reddening neck.

“No, you’re right. Not everything,” he chuckles, nodding, “Goodnight.” Nathaniel closes the door, muffling the sounds of Velanna’s voice.


	21. Year 12 - Part 5

In the morning, Eda awakens to the smell of salt pork frying. She rolls over onto her back, spreading out, expecting to hit the bed with her right arm. Instead, it is Alistair she hits. He groans, waking with a start, “Maker. What was that for?”

She shoots straight up, “You’re here? I thought you were cooking.”

“Why would I be cooking? It’s barely daybreak,” he says with a yawn. He begins to roll back over but pauses when he smells the pork cooking. “Well, someone is… Nate? Or Velanna?”

“I guess,” she says, placing her socked feet on the cold wood floor and wrapping herself in a dressing gown. She pulls the strings of the gown tight around her waist and heads toward the door of their room.

Outside she hears Garrick’s soft giggles and light protests of “Father! Please!” More giggles. Eda opens the door as softly as she can manage, slipping into the main room. Velanna is standing at the woodstove, flipping slices of salt pork over with a large fork. Her hair is loose, and she is wearing no more than Eda. However, her feet are bare and tapping the floor gently as she hums.

Nate is leaned over the sofa arm, tickling his son. Garrick is lying on his back, wiggling about madly, giggling, and begging his father to stop. Nate is laughing too, his dark blue eyes lit with joy. His son’s identical nose is scrunched up as he laughs, and he is reaching up to pull at his father’s hair to keep him from tickling him more.

Eda leans against the doorway, smiling at the happy family before her. She places a hand to her belly, well hidden under the bulky robe. _I can’t wait, little one._ Shifting her weight against the wood frame, it creaks and belies her presence. Nate whips around, allowing Garrick ample time to squeeze out from under his father’s tickling fingers and off the sofa. He zips from across the room to behind Eda’s legs and clings to her, hiding from Nate. Eda giggles down at the small boy as he tugs on her housecoat and half-whispers, “Help me! Father’s going to tickle me to death!”

“Oh! Certainly not to death!” she says with a grin, leaning down to pick up the child. She waggles her fingers at him in a teasing manner, “Death by tickles doesn’t really sound so bad, does it?”

He sticks out his little tongue and laughs. She brings her fingers to under his chin, threatening to tickle him. “No! Please!!” he wails, leaning backward and struggling to escape her grasp. She leans forward to better tighten her grasp on the wriggling boy but pauses when a pain leaves her gasping. Eda quickly puts Garrick down with a terse smile.

“Go back and play with your father,” she smiles, gritting her teeth together, bending nearly double to place him on the floor. She stands, eyes desperate, and nearly gasps out, “Velanna?”

The elf turns from the stove to see the worry in her friend’s eyes. She brushes off her hands on her skirt and turns to her husband, “Nathaniel, watch the stove.” She turns to her son, eyes softening slightly, “Garrick, could you please play by yourself for a bit? Just until your father finishes cooking.”

Garrick nods diligently and sits down behind the cluster of wooden blocks, “Yes, Mamae.” He begins to stack them, sending a worried look back at his mother and then to Eda. Eda smiles at him through tight lips as Velanna crosses the room and puts her hand on the taller woman’s back, leading her back into Eda and Alistair’s bedroom.

“Lie down,” she instructs, “Take off your robe.” Eda complies, but Alistair sits bolt upright and looks at his wife in concern.

“Eda, are you alright? What’s happe—”

Velanna cuts him off, “Alistair, go help Nathaniel with breakfast. Garrick would probably like it if you would help him build his castle.”

“But,” he protests, “if she’s not okay, I want to be with her. I wasn’t here when…” Alistair trails off, voice constricted by the memory of that horrible day nearly five years before.

“I don’t know if that is happening,” Velanna says, unusually wary of her words. “If it is, I will let you know so that you can be with her. But for now, let us just hope that we can stop it before it happens.” Alistair begins to protest, but Velanna refuses him, “Please just give me some space so I can see what’s happening here. You can come back in as soon as I’m done.” Her typically harsh voice has a softer lilt to it than usual. He nods and quickly leans down to press a kiss to Eda’s forehead.

He stands up from the bed, wrapping his own dressing robe around him and heading toward the door, “I’ll just be outside. Call if you need anything.” He looks his wife right in the eyes, worrying his lip beneath his teeth, “I love you.”

She smiles despite her fear, “I love you too.” Alistair shuts the door gently, and the two women can hear the worried sounds of Velanna’s son questioning Alistair along with his deeper, softer replies. Eda tears her eyes away from the door and up to look at the mage standing over her, “So?”

Velanna runs her tongue over her lips and takes a deep breath, “I’m going to have to see…”

“I know,” Eda says with a nod, removing her smalls and spreading her legs. The smallclothes are dotted lightly with blood, and she pales.

“This doesn’t mean that –”

“I know,” Eda says again, mind racing. _If I lose this one too, then that’ll be it._ She runs her hand experimentally over her belly. _All my hope is riding on you, little one._ “Velanna, I’ve delivered more babies than you have, I’d expect.”

The elf nods tersely, examining Eda with a prodding finger, “You have. But you haven’t had one. This part is new for you.”

She cocks her head in agreement, shrugging slightly, “What do you think it is? Is this—” She chokes back a cry to keep her voice from breaking, “Is this another loss?” Velanna leans down to press her ear to Eda’s belly, listening for any signs of life. She sits back up with a glimmer of hope in her eyes after hearing the soft fluttering of life from her friend’s womb.

Velanna shakes her head, “No. Not yet at least. You haven’t lost enough blood for it to be. And you only had the one pain?”

“Yes.”

“That’s good at least,” Velanna says, removing her hand and wiping it on her skirt. She thinks for a minute, directs a bolt of healing energy toward Eda’s nethers, and collects herself, “I think you should stay in bed. For a while.”

Eda breathes a sigh of… something… relief? Frustration? “A while? You mean the rest of the pregnancy.” Velanna nods. Now it is relief, “That’s all?”

“All? I couldn’t imagine being confined to the bed for, what? How much time do you have?” Velanna asks, sitting on the edge of the bed.

Eda squints, running her tongue over her lips in thought, “Well, it was late autumn when I found out… So, I should be due in late summer.”

“But with the taint,” Velanna begins warily.

“But with the taint,” Eda continues, “this child will likely come early. I’d expect her no sooner than the start of summer though.” She takes a deep breath, “At least I hope not.”

Velanna nods, “I need to be here for it. I would not have lived if you were not there. And I know from experience that you will not feel capable of any magic while in labour.” She groans and leans back slightly, “It’s awful.”

Eda smiles lightly, “So, no more for you then?”

“No more boys coming out arse-first and nearly killing me, you mean?” she laughs. “No. I’m happy with just the one. He’s all we could dream of.”

She beams, “Well, then I’m glad your little accident is so perfect. He really is precious.”

“Thank you,” Velanna says, smiling fondly back toward the door. Beyond it two deeper voices are conversing softly while Garrick’s high and lilting tones can be heard as he hums the tune Velanna sang to him the night before. “He’s too much like his father.”

“There’s nothing wrong with that,” Eda says, leaning up to clasp her friend on her shoulder. Velanna sends her a withering look and points, directing her to lie back down. She complies, “Nate is a wonderful man.”

Velanna smiles softly again, “He is. And he’s so good with Garrick. He’s better at this whole parental thing than I am.”

“That can’t be true,” Eda says, a smirk quirking her lips upward. “I heard you singing to him last night. You’re the best “mamae” he could hope to have.”

She blushes and looks at her feet, “I just with Seranni was here to see her nephew.” She turns away and shakes her head, “Of course, she’d be appalled to know that I’d married a shem, but I think she’d understand.”

“I’m sure she would,” Eda says softly. Velanna stares at the floorboards for another few seconds before turning and patting Eda on the knee.

“I’m going to go get Alistair. He doesn’t deserve to be out there worrying while we chat about first one thing then the next,” Velanna says with a smile, standing. She crosses the room and opens the door carefully, so as not to frighten the men sitting in the floor, the cooked meat now forgotten and sitting uneaten on a plate beside the stove.

At the creak of the door, Alistair whips around and stands quickly. In this moment of panic, the grown man looks as young as her son. Velanna smiles gently and gestures for him to go back in to his wife. He practically races in and sits beside Eda, running his hand over her face frantically and kissing her on the top of the head.

“I’m alright, Alistair,” Eda says, catching his hand in her own and bringing them down to rest on her stomach. A soft kick reassures him, and he leans back against the headboard, moving to cradle her in his arms.

“Maker,” he says gently into her hair, “It’s like I was back five years ago. But I also felt like I was losing you. She was so scared and determined, like you were that night Garrick was born. When she was fading… I was so afraid I was losing you too. Eda,” his voice breaks, “I don’t want to lose this child, but I can’t lose you.”

She leans into his shoulder, smiling and nodding to Velanna, silently asking her to leave for a moment. Velanna nods back to her and backs out of the room, softly closing the door behind her.

Eda brushes her fingers through Alistair’s hair for a bit, hushing him and assuring him that she would be fine. After a few minutes of this, she takes his face in her hand and looks him dead in the eyes, amber meeting amber, “I’ve seen this sort of thing before. I tell them to rest, to stay in bed. It’s no fun, I’m sure. But all the rest staves off the early birth. I’ll be okay. I’ll just be in the bed.”

“Well,” he says, sitting up straighter and composing himself, “then I suppose you’ll just have to have plenty to do. I’ll find you more yarn. And books! When you write to Freddie, make sure you leave a note to ask Varric to write more for you.”

Eda laughs, pressing a kiss to his cheek, “Books don’t just write themselves in a day. I should know; I tried to write several times while I was in the Circle. I never really could get beyond the ‘Once upon a time…’”

He smiles, “Then I suppose I’ll just have to go buy all the books in that bookshop in the market district.”

“I guess I’ll have the time,” she grins. “But please go tell Nate and Velanna to come on in. If I can’t entertain them like a proper host from the couch, I’ll entertain them from the bed.”

Alistair laughs, “Our room’s becoming a parlor then, is it?”

She giggles and pecks him on the lips, “Only for a few months.” She shifts her attention to address the bump, “As soon as you’re here, little one, there’ll be no more of this sitting about in bed all day.” He laughs as he gets up and crosses the room to open the door and welcome the Howes into the room with them.

Nathaniel enters with their breakfasts and sits at the foot of the bed, pulling Garrick up to sit with him. Velanna perches on the other side of the mattress, taking the food from her husband and passing it to Eda and Alistair. True to her word, Eda entertains from the bed and thinks to herself, _If only the painter who did those portraits in Vigil’s Keep were here now. This would certainly be a friendlier image to see of the wardens. A sign of hope in a time of madness with this whole breach situation. Even the most damaged of us, a bastard, a retired hero, an elven blood mage, and the son of a traitor, can have good things happen to them. What a strange family…_


	22. Year 12 - Part 6

_Dearest Freddie,_

_It finally happened!! I held off writing to you for as long as I could because I wanted to make sure it was real this time, but Alistair and I are finally having a baby! After all these years, the Maker finally answered our prayers. From my count, I’m about six months along, and she’s doing fine. She’s even kicking! Alistair gets annoyed when I say ‘she’ because he thinks it’ll be a boy, but I know better. I can tell it’ll be a little girl. But anyway, I say all this because I want you to be there when the baby comes. As excited as Alistair is to finally be a father, he has no idea what he’s doing. We could use some help. But more than that, I want to see you! It’s been far too long, big cousin. Send a reply as soon as you read this. I’m so happy, Freddie, I can’t stop smiling!_

_All of my love,_

_Eda_

She leans back against the headboard with a sigh, laying the quill down on the board across her lap. Eda picks up the letter and waves it about gently, blowing on it to dry the ink. She then folds the parchment and slides it inside an envelope, dripping the blue wax onto it and sealing it with her ring. Eda screws the lid back onto the inkwell and picks up a heavy tome from the small wooden table beside the bed. _A Complete History of Antiva_ , the third in a series by some scholar whose name she cannot pronounce. She opens the book to the fifth chapter (of twenty-six!) and holds the letter in the air, calling out for her husband, “Alistair! Can you send this out?”

He enters the room, a soft smile on his flour-spattered face. He crosses the room and leans down to kiss her. She laughs and puts her hands to his face, brushing the flour out of his stubble, “Best not go out covered in flour. What would our neighbors think?”

Alistair chuckles low and kisses her lightly, “Just that some poor baker had business with the viscount of Kirkwall.”

“A poor baker with a letter sealed by a Grey Warden nonetheless.”

He shrugs with a smile and takes the letter from her hand. “What are you reading today?” he asks, picking up the front cover of the tome to read from it. “History of Antiva? Since when do you care about Antivan history?”

She rolls her eyes, huffing, “Since it’s the only book I have left that isn’t about a Blight or that blasted Orlesian ‘game’.”

He grins and kisses her on the head, “Guess I need to make another bookstore run while I’m out sending the letter, don’t I?”

“Please,” she says, eyes begging, “Just any adventure that’s not about a Blight. Or some books on the magical schools. Andraste’s tits, _anything!_ ” He laughs again and begins to exit the room.

“Anything else? Or should I just leave you to your histories?”

She swats her hand at him dismissively laughing. But her face softens slightly, “Maybe you could find some ice? My chest is burning something fierce.”

He smiles back kindly, “I’ll see if I can. Don’t go anywhere.” She laughs again and opens her book pointedly.

“I’ll be right here.”


	23. Year 12 - Part 7

She wakes from her dreams of their son, his ear pressed to her swollen belly, grinning toothily at his father, to Alistair gently shaking her shoulder. Eda yawns and turns to sit in the bed, smoothing the gown over her enlarged breasts and abdomen. Alistair is smiling gleefully. “What is it, love?” she asks, scrubbing at her eyes.

“I just thought you ought to know that a couple of your favourite people just arrived,” he says, smile stretching. Eda’s eyes widen, topaz glittering brightly in the morning sunlight streaming in from the window.

She leans over to press a kiss to his cheek, “Well, then hand me my housecoat. I’d better look at least a little presentable.” He chuckles low and kisses her temple before stepping off the bed and plucking Eda’s robe from where it hangs on a nail in their wall. As he turns back to hand the robe to her, she turns slightly to see the messy stack of books beside her, the nearly finished royal blue knit blanket draped over it complete with a knitting needle and a long strand of yarn that extends under the bed, likely to where the ball has rolled in the night. She gawks at the sight, “Maker! What a mess! Freddie can’t see the room like this!”

Alistair laughs again, tossing the robe onto his wife’s head and shoulders. She pulls the warm thing off with an exaggerated pout and huff. He crosses to the other side of the bed to help her stand just long enough to put on the robe, “I can’t imagine she’ll mind, Eda. You saw the state of her home when Ella was a newborn, and she has servants!” Eda concedes with a shrug, sitting back down on the bed, leaning back enough to accommodate her bump before swinging her legs up onto the mattress. He bends to kiss her head, “You’ve only got me to boss around.”

She laughs and swats at his arm, but he dances out of her reach, over to the door. He gives her one last expectant look before swinging it open to reveal Freddie and Ella. Freddie smiles warmly and begins to enter the room, but before she can, Ella is bounding into their bedroom, her flaxen hair unbound and flying wildly. The little girl’s bright blue eyes, the same colour as her mother’s, focus on her aunty and then flit to Eda’s large stomach. Her face breaks into a wide grin as she propels herself up onto the Amell’s bed.

Eda’s eyebrows raise slightly, surprised at the height she was able to jump without the bounce of a mattress. It is almost like she’s flying. Eda turns her gaze quickly to the girl’s mother, who is watching her daughter with apprehension. _If that’s magic… Oh, Freddie will be devastated_. She is shaken from her thoughts when two small hands come down lightly on her belly, and she lets out a surprised huff.

Ella pulls back her hands quickly at her aunt’s reaction, “I’m sorry Aunty Eda! Did that hurt you?” She shrinks away slightly as Freddie steps up quickly, reaching to pull her daughter to the edge of the bed rather than where she sits, one knee resting on either side of one of Eda’s thighs.

Eda looks up at her cousin with a quick shake of her head before reaching out to pat Ella’s shoulder, “No, sweetie, I’m okay. You just surprised me, that’s all!” Ella’s smile returns to her face in full force, showing a gap in her front teeth. Eda gasps and grabs the child’s chin gently, pulling her a little closer, “You lost a tooth! Why didn’t your mummy tell me in her last letter?” She sends a jokingly reproachful look to Freddie.

Ella laughs, “I just lost it on the boat over!” She sticks her tongue into the hole where her front tooth once was. Around her tongue, she tries to say, “I lost it in an apple.”

“You know,” Eda says, leaning in to whisper to Ella, “I lost my first one like that too. Back when I lived in Kirkwall. I was a little older than you though, at least I think so.” She puts a finger to her lips, tapping while looking to the ceiling for her answer, “How old are you again?”

Ella giggles, “Almost five!”

“No!” Alistair interjects, coming to sit on the other side of the bed. He puts his hand to his mouth, “Seems to me you shouldn’t be much bigger than this.” He stretches his fingers out on one hand to make brackets between his thumb and forefinger, curling the others into his palm. Ella giggles and throws herself across the bed and into Alistair’s arms. He pulls her into a tight hug before sending Eda and Freddie a mischievous glance and snaking his fingers at Ella’s sides and in the crook of her neck. She launches herself backward, giggling furiously at her uncle’s tickling.

Eda smiles warmly, her gaze shifting from the laughing child to the man beside her. His honey eyes are twinkling, and he is laughing heartily. Freddie puts a hand on her cousin’s shoulder, “He’s going to make a great father.”

Alistair freezes for a moment, head snapping up to see the women gazing at him, “You think so?”

“’Course!” Freddie barks out with a laugh, “As if there was a question about it.” His eyes drop from Freddie’s face to Eda’s belly, and he places his hand over it.

“Maker, I hope so,” he says quietly. Ella sits up and straightens her tunic casually, brushing back her hair from her face before leaning over to stare intently at Eda’s belly. Her actions catch Alistair’s attention, and he looks over to her, brushing a strand of blonde hair behind her ear, “What do you think? Think I’ll make a good da?”

She nods quickly, her messy curls bouncing, “Yeah! You like to play and have fun, but you also know how to tell good stories before bed. Not as good as Uncle Varric’s stories though.”

Alistair beams and laughs, “Guess no one can beat him when it comes to stories.”

“Nope,” Ella says, crossing her arms confidently. Hawke beams down at her daughter. Eda smirks, recognizing the gesture as so quintessentially Freddie that it is almost laughable. “Uncle Varric is writing a book for me, you know.”

“Is he now?” Eda says, repositioning herself so that she is sitting straight up against the headboard. “He won’t even write the next issue of _Swords and Shields_ for me!”

Ella giggles and puffs her chest out with pride. _Just like her mother_ , Eda thinks with a small chuckle. _And her father_. The thought needles its way into the back of her mind, and her smile drops slightly. Eda runs her tongue over her lips and nearly misses Ella’s next statement. “It's about a little girl who goes to kill a dragon, but the dragon’s really not so bad, so they become friends and fly around together.”

“Sounds like a little girl that I remember wanting to _be_ a dragon,” Eda smirks, sending a pointed look to Freddie who, having no shame, laughs openly about it.

“I wanted to fly over towns and reign down **terror**!” she says the last word in a deep, monstrous voice, reaching toward her daughter with her fingers crooked to look like claws.

Ella giggles, rolling her eyes, “Mummy!! I don’t want to _be_ a dragon! I just want to _ride_ one.”

“Well then,” Freddie says, steepling her fingers and leaning her elbows on the bedside, “we simply must find you one.”

Alistair leans back against the headboard with a sigh, “Maker! I’ve had enough of dragons to last me a lifetime.” Eda nods in agreement letting out a heavy breath. If she never sees another dragon in her life, she will be happy. Well, any other live dragon; after Ella received her knitted one soon after her first birthday, and Eda saw how much the little girl liked to play with it, she had decided to try her hand at another. One for Garrick first, then one for the child in her womb.

“I heard some dragon destroyed Haven,” Freddie says, tapping her lips with her finger, “The Inquisition had to relocate to some fortress in the Frostbacks.” Eda raised her eyebrows and exchanged curious glances with Alistair. “At least that’s what Varric said in his last letter. But he is prone to exaggeration.”

“Was it the dragon from the Temple of Sacred Ashes?” Eda asks cautiously.

Freddie hums in thought, “I don’t know. Don’t think so. He said its some kind of archdemon with some darkspawn magister I fought years ago. Coryphi-whatever. Thought I killed that bastard.”

“Archdemon!?” Eda cries, grasping Alistair’s hand tightly, “The last Blight only ended a little more than ten years ago! I can’t fight a Blight.” She gestures to her stomach, “Not like this!” She sits up straight and begins to swing her legs over the edge of the bed. At the action, Alistair reaches over and catches her arm, giving her a warning look. “Alistair,” she admonishes, “if there is a Blight going on, I’m going to have to pace.”

“Velanna said you should only get up to use the chamber pot,” he says, hand still on her upper arm.

She turns back and pats the back of his hand lightly, “It won’t hurt me to pace just this once. Plus, she wasn’t much further along when she had Garrick; I expect the taint will force this little one out in the next week or so.”

Freddie furrows her brows, “But you’re still about a month early. Ella was almost three weeks early, and she was so little.”

“Garrick was small too,” Eda shrugs, removing Alistair’s hand from her upper arm and placing her feet on the floor. She grips the headboard in one hand and her belly in the other. She stands and begins to pace slowly around the room.

“But Eda,” Alistair says, standing and wrapping his arm around her waist to steady her, leaving Ella the only one on the bed, “Velanna almost died.” Ella gasps softly, but Alistair does not seem to notice. “Garrick was breech. Aren’t babies supposed to be head down?”

Eda nods, “Yes, but I’ve delivered full-term babies that were facing the wrong way. It happens. And people die, Alistair; Childbirth is dangerous.”

“That’s why I’m here,” Freddie says proudly, sliding a small satchel around to face the couple. “And that’s why I brought these,” she says, opening the bag to display several vials of different liquids. “I’m not a healer, but these should help a lot.”

She smiles, “And that’s why we’re going to send for Velanna as soon as it happens. She _is_ a healer. And so am I. I hope I’ll have enough mind to heal myself or the child if we need it.”

“I still don’t know why you won’t let me send for Wynne when the babe comes,” Alistair pouts, shuffling his feet in time with Eda’s pacing. She pauses for a moment, slightly out of breath.

“It’s because,” she says between heaving breaths, “we don’t know where she is.” Deep breath. “She may not even be in Ferelden.” Deep breath, hand on belly, slight bend in the back. “Amaranthine is only a day away.” She struggles to regain her breath, leaning heavily on her husband.

He leans down to hoist her into his arms, “That’s it. Back into bed. Velanna told you not to get up.” He clucks is tongue in disapproval as he puts one arm behind her knees and another around her back. He stands up quickly, pulling her into a bridal-style carry. She lets out a small cry, eyes widening, placing a hand to her lower belly. Alistair’s eyes cloud over with concern before settling back to a calm wariness, “Is this one of those pains you said were for practice?”

Eda breathes shakily, “I don’t think so.” She moans as the pain leaves her, and she is able to catch her breath again.

Freddie jumps into action, shooing Ella out the door, into the main room, “Ella, dear, I think Aunty Eda may be ready to have her baby. Go out and practice your reading, please.”

Ella’s eyes grow wide as she looks to her aunt, now resting back on the bed, her hand resting below her bump, pressing in to assess the child’s position. She nods quickly, without a word and springs across the room and into the main room of the cottage. Eda takes Alistair’s hand in her own and strokes the back of it gently. She laughs lightly, “Guess Velanna was right. Can you please go send for her?”

“I don’t want to miss any—” he says, but Freddie cuts him off,

“For goodness sake, man! Haven’t you been with some fathers when Eda delivered babies? Labour doesn’t take two minutes. Maker!” she says, exasperated, “Her waters haven’t even broken.”

Alistair nods, kissing the back of Eda’s hand, and takes a shaky breath before exiting the room and the cottage to look for a messenger to send to Vigil’s Keep.

Eda chuckles softly, “Whatever am I going to do with him?” She shakes her head, a smile still touching her lips. She looks up at Freddie, a gleam in her amber eyes, “I suppose you got here just in time.”

“Guess so,” Freddie says with a laugh, curling her hand around her cousin’s. “I’m glad we could make it.”


	24. Year 12 - Part 8

Alistair returns, flying back into the room without so much of a knock. Freddie sends him a perturbed glance as she feels Eda’s stomach, checking the baby’s position. She looks back to her younger cousin, “I thought the fathers weren’t supposed to be in the room.” She raises her eyebrow at Alistair, “Shouldn’t you know that? You’ve attended enough births with her.”

He sits down at the edge of the bed, leaning over to twine his fingers with Eda’s, “I’m just worried, that’s all. I’d like to stay. But I’ll go if you want.” He looks to his wife with worried, pleading eyes.

Eda smiles, “It’s alright. I’m the healer here, and I want you to stay.” Freddie scoffs and rolls her eyes

“My midwife wouldn’t let Varric stay in the room while I had Ella. Totally unfair,” she mutters to herself, feeling the child through Eda’s abdomen again. “That…” she pauses, feeling the part of the babe positioned downward, “doesn’t feel like a head. Too small to be an arse…”

Eda raises her brows and then pinches them, closing her eyes tightly as she breathes out with slow force. Once the short contraction passes, she looks up at her cousin, reaching to where Freddie’s hand is palpitating her belly. She feels at it for a moment and lets out a frustrated sound, “I’ve never really felt it at this angle before…” Freddie laughs lightly. “…but it feels like feet to me.”

Freddie cocks her head to the side in a shrug, “Well, you know better than I do. Only baby I’ve felt in a woman was Ella in me.”

Alistair’s hand tightens over Eda’s, “Is that okay? Aren’t most babies born head first?”

Eda nods, “Yes, but ones that are born early often aren’t. Garrick was arse-first, you remember.”

“Is that why…?” he asks, his eyes widening with concern, glancing quickly between his wife’s face and her protruding belly.

She shakes her head and shrugs, running her tongue over her lips in contemplation, “Not entirely. It could have been part of it, but my guess is that the taint was responsible for all the bleeding.”

His concern turns to panic. He turns at his place on the bed until one knee is resting on the mattress and the other is resting on top of his ankle. Alistair takes her hand in his other as well, so that both of his large hands are covering her much smaller one, “That doesn’t reassure me at all! We’ve had the taint in us longer than they had! Morrigan said that was worse, didn’t she? Back when—” His voice cuts off sharply as his eyes turn dark, and his mouth turns to a sour expression.

“She did,” Eda says, breathing steadily, attempting to hold his gaze. “But Riordan had been a Grey Warden for _years_ before we were Joined. Nathaniel and Velanna have had it only two years, at most, less than us.” This does little to dissuade Alistair’s fear, so Eda brings her other hand to cover his, patting them lightly, “As long as Velanna gets here in time, I don’t think we should worry.”

Alistair looks conflicted for a moment, “Alright. But Vigil’s Keep is a day’s journey! Velanna’s labour only lasted, what, six hours?” Eda shrugs with a nod, opening her mouth to attempt to reassure him again, but Freddie breaks the tension.

“I don’t think we have to worry about a fast delivery,” she says, looking up from the end of the bed, lowering the sheet back down to cover Eda’s nethers. “There’s no way a baby’s going to fit out something that small. You’ve got a while.”

The sigh Eda lets out is part relief and part frustration, “How long do you think, Freddie?”

The older woman throws up her hands, “I don’t know. I’m not a healer. I’ve never done this before.”

Eda lifts her hand from Alistair’s, “How small are you meaning? How many fingers?”

“Fingers?” Freddie asks, a confused smirk rising on her face, “Is that how you tell?”

She can’t help but laugh slightly, “Yes, typically.” Freddie hums contemplatively, reaching back down to lift the sheets and press her finger to Eda’s cervix. Eda’s mouth twists upward unpleasantly as her eyes find the ceiling. Freddie’s inexperience only furthers her hope that Velanna would arrive sooner rather than later.

The pressure between Eda’s legs lightens as Freddie pulls away and lowers the sheet again. Her cousin’s face is scrunched slightly as she wipes her hand on her skirt. Eda smirks; an experienced healer such as Velanna, Wynne, Anders, or herself would not think twice about the fluids involved in the delivery, but Freddie looks positively disgusted. “I got about two in?” Freddie asks more than tells Eda, wiping her fingers on her skirt again.

Alistair looks to Eda, “What does that mean? Should I go look for another healer?”

“They’re mostly helping the Inquisition, dear. And that’s not much at all. Velanna should have enough time, providing neither the messenger nor she is delayed,” she says matter-of-factly. She scrunches her eyes again and lets out a deep breath through her nose as another pain rings through her.

“Well,” he asks, eyes flitting between Eda and Freddie, “What should I do? What will you need?”

Freddie bites her lip, searching for knowledge of the list of things the servants had fetched while she was birthing Ella, “Er… Maybe some blankets? Towels?” She thinks for a minute more, Eda appraising her with kind eyes, ready to fill in any blanks. She looks to Eda, “You’ll need water. And I’ll need hot water!” She looks proud to have remembered that part.

“Then I’ll go put on the kettle,” Alistair says, beginning to stand, suddenly full of nervous energy.

Eda puts a hand on his arms, “Not yet. We won’t need hot water until the end. But a bucket of cold might be nice for Freddie to rinse her hands. And an empty one to put the soiled cloths at the end. I think we have a couple out by the pump.” Alistair pats her hand absentmindedly.

"Of course,” he says, eyes focused blankly at the opposing wall, “I’ll go get some.”

Freddie smirks after him, “Maybe you could check up on Ella on the way out? I’m sure she’ll want to know what’s going on.” She looks back to Eda, “She’s always so curious.”

Eda smiles, remembering her own youthful curiosity. The _hours_ she spent in the library at the Circle, reading books on magic, history, and anatomy. She nearly laughs about the last one; she got in so much trouble when one of the senior enchanters found her with that book about the four humours and their balances when she was twelve. Anatomy was taught very carefully in the Circle. A great anatomist could become a wonderful healer or a powerful necromancer. Necromancy, though praised in other countries such as Tevinter and Nevarra, is forbidden in Ferelden, falling under the category of blood magic. She’d been questioned thoroughly, and Irving had kept a close watch on her for weeks. She was kept out of the anatomy books, and even when she was meant to learn it with the other apprentices her age, she was forbidden from going to her lesson.

She chuckles to herself, noticing the stack of books still resting beside her bed; little has changed since her Circle days as far as learning is concerned. But, she has to admit, the stories of the war between Antiva and Rivain are not exactly her cup of tea.

When Eda shakes her head to clear the memories, Alistair is leaving the room. He throws her one last worried glance, mouthing, _I love you_. She smiles and blows him a kiss as he shuts the door. Freddie breathes a sigh of relief, slumping down on the bed, “I really don’t want to do anything wrong. Not under his eagle eyes.”

She laughs, “He doesn’t know any more about delivering babies than you do.”

"You’re right, of course. I don’t know much. Are you sure that’s okay?” Freddie says, wringing her hands slightly. Eda puts a hand on her cousin’s shoulder.

“Of course that’s alright. We all have to start somewhere. Who knows,” she teases gently, “maybe you’ll make a great midwife. You don’t have to be a mage to be a good healer. It’s just a little harder.”

“Ugh, I don’t really want to be a midwife. Maker knows I’ve got enough on my plate raising a terror and ruling a city,” Freddie says with an exasperated sigh, letting her head fall into her hands.

Eda smiles, “I wouldn’t call Ella a terror.”

“You don’t live with her,” Freddie jokes fondly.

“Fair.”


	25. Year 12 - Part 9

Alistair glances out the window at the darkening sky, squeezing Eda’s hand tighter. Worriedly, he says, “Where is Velanna? She should be here by now.”

“She’s on her way, I’m sure,” Eda groans out, clenching her teeth through another pain. Her bangs are already slicked to her forehead with sweat, and her breathing is rough.

Freddie looks up from under the sheet again, wiping her fingers against her skirt again, this time with less disgust than before, “You’re at four fingers.” Eda nods tiredly as she collapses back against the pillows they’ve set up against the headboard. “This is really taking a while; are you sure that’s okay? It only took me about eight hours. You’ve already been going at it for near half of the day.”

Eda breathes deeply, summoning her strength enough to prop herself on her elbows to look her cousin in the eyes. She attempts a weak smile, “I’ve delivered babies that take whole days. Sunup to sunup. It happens.” Freddie bites her lip and nods, the worry still present in her expression. “Don’t worry. It’s not dangerous unless the mother’s been at it for a few days; it rarely comes to that.” Another pain strikes her, and she sits up slightly, leaning her weight on her elbows and putting one hand to her belly.

She pants to keep herself from pushing, but she still lets out a small push before she can stop that. Suddenly, the bedsheets beneath her are sopping wet. Her eyes blow wide as she falls back against the pillows, looking to Freddie in panic, “What is it? Blood? Or my waters? Freddie!”

Her cousin quickly pulls the sheet back again and sighs in relief, “Just your waters. All nice and clear.”

“Oh, thank the Maker,” Eda pants out, wetting her lips a couple of times, her eyebrows relaxing. Alistair rubs his thumb against the ball of her hand.

“That’s good, isn’t it. Means we’ll have our child here soon?” he asks quickly, glancing from Freddie to Eda and back. He throws another quick glance out the window into the barely lit darkness. His only light to look for Velanna is the soft glow of candles from within their neighbors’ houses.

Freddie shrugs, gritting her teeth into a half-smirk, half-grimace. Eda takes another deep breath before she replies, “Maybe. It’s a good sign, but I’ve heard of women who take days after their waters have broken. Not usually after they’ve been in labour though.” Deep, hitched breath. “I’ve only delivered a few that took more than a full day after the mother’s waters have broken.”

Eager to share her little knowledge of childbirth, Freddie responds, “Oh yes, but Anders said that he had a woman once who went a full week after her waters broke before her pains began. She stayed in his clinic the whole time, and—” Eda cuts off Freddie’s story with a sharp glare; her plump lips, swollen from the biting and panting, purse up. Freddie begins to scowl, but her gaze turns to Alistair who looks petrified.

“A week?” he chokes out. He reaches for the table where the cup of water he had fetched for Eda hours ago sits, still full to the brim, and takes a gulp. He stares down into the clay mug for another few moments.

“Dear,” Eda says, resting her hand on Alistair’s shoulder, “That’s only when labour has yet to start.” She attempts a grin, encouraging him to return it, “I can safely say I’m in labour already.” He nods and takes another gulp of water. “Maybe you should take a little break. Go eat something, talk to Ella. She’s got to be bored out of her mind, reading all day while we’re in here. Poor girl.”

Freddie nods, hopeful to escape the aura of worry he brings to the room for just a moment, “I’m sure she’d like to know how Eda’s progressing. And to know that her baby cousin is well on the way. Plus, after you take a break, I can take a break. Maker knows I need something to eat too.”

“And,” Eda reassures, “by the time all that’s done, maybe Velanna will be here, and you two can get some sleep. It is late.”

Freddie lets out a short laugh, “If you think any of us will be sleeping any time soon, I think you’re in for a surprise.”

Eda smiles, eyes drifting closed slightly, “Perhaps. But I’m going to take the advice I’ve given to women during long, late-night labours: I’m going to get any rest I can in between pains, even if it is just lying back with my eyes shut.”

"Good idea,” Freddie says, smiling. She shifts her gaze to Alistair, “Now, go on. Take your break. Then you can come back in to keep an eye on her while I do the same.” He begins to protest, but Eda puts a gentle finger to his lips.

“There’s no reason _all_ of us have to go through the whole day without eating or sleeping,” she says softly, eyes still closed. He slowly stands from the bed, squeezing her hand once more before releasing it. Alistair looks at her face, flushed and pale at the same time, and he frets his bottom lip under his teeth. He looks to Freddie, but she nods in reassurance to him.

“Don’t worry. She’ll be okay. I’ll get you if anything big happens,” she says kindly.

He nods, sighing and heading for the door, “I’ll make you some extra pork. Do you want me to boil that water now?”

“That would be great, Alistair,” Freddie smiles in response, “Thank you.”

He nods again, ducking his head as he exits the room.


	26. Year 12 - Part 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's another chapter with birth in it. Skip to about a quarter to a third through the chapter if you don't want to read it, but this one isn't even as graphic as the one in chapter 15 (Year 10 - Part 3).

Freddie swipes at her forehead with her wrist as she pulls back the sheet. Eda has one hand tightly clenched around Alistair’s and another pressed tightly against her open mouth. She bites down hard on her index finger to muffle the shout as the pain wracks her body. “Oh! Eda,” Freddie exclaims, reaching below and grasping something gently, “we’ve got a foot!”

She attempts to smile through the pain, breathing quickly. She bears down again as Freddie presses back her cervix slightly to let the other foot enter the world. Her contraction passes, and she slumps back against Alistair, who has taken up position behind her rather than at her side. He kisses her sweat-slicked hair and rubs her arm encouragingly, “Come on love. You’re doing so well. Eda, you’re doing beautifully.”

Freddie smiles up at them from her place kneeling on the bed between Eda’s legs, “He’s right you know. But we’ve got to get this kid out of here, so they can breathe.”

“Right,” Eda says, her voice raspy and tired. An air of determination crosses her tired eyes, “She might gasp if she gets cold. Hot towel around her now, Freddie.” She takes in a deep but stilted breath.

She nods and does as she’s told, dipping one of the towels into the small bucket of no longer boiling water. She wrings the towel out quickly and fans the air with it to keep it from burning the child. Alistair brushes his fingers through his wife’s hair while Freddie does this, a soft laugh on his lips, “Still sure it’s a girl?”

“Yes,” Eda says with a sigh before leaning up again to push. Freddie takes the child’s legs in her hands and pulls gently as the babe slides from Eda’s womb. She does not stop to check the child’s sex because Eda continues to push, and the child’s torso enters the world. Her skin is nearly as purple as Eda’s is white. Not a good sign, if Anders’ stories of his deliveries were any indication. Alistair chances a look at Freddie’s face, seeing that she has gone white as well.

“What is it? Freddie, is the baby okay?” he asks, worry spreading across his features as his wife lays back against his chest, exhausted.

She wets her lips carefully, “I hope so. Now, Eda,” she says, trying to get her cousin’s attention. Eda’s eyes flutter open, and she hums softly in question. “On your next pain, I need you to push the hardest you can. We need her _out_. _Now_.”

She takes a shaky breath, still lying with her head on Alistair’s shoulder, her face turned upward toward the ceiling, “Just don’t lose her, okay Freddie.” She breathes shallowly again, “Don’t lose her.”

Freddie grits her teeth and slides the warm towel up the infant’s body to cover their chest, “I won’t. But I’m not losing you either.” A hazy thought crosses Eda’s mind, _I wish Anders were here_. Her next contraction comes quickly, and Eda does as instructed. The child’s shoulders emerge, and their head follows in short order. More blood spills from Eda onto the sheets. Freddie makes a strangled sound as she reaches into her skirt for something. She produces a knife and, pinching the cord, she slices it in half and proceeds to pull it away from the infant’s neck.

At this point, Eda has leaned up slightly with Alistair’s help to see the child. She gasps at the sight of the purplish body with the umbilical cord wrapped tightly around her neck. As Freddie cuts the cord, Eda summons her remaining strength to shoot a beam of healing energy at the infant. She leans back against her husband, spent entirely.

Having finally pulled all of the cord from the child’s throat, Freddie quickly smacks the babe’s rump, and it begins to wail. Eda’s eyes are closed, her face pale, and her breathing shallow, but she manages a soft smile at the screams of the babe in Freddie’s arms.

Freddie breathes a sigh of relief, going over to the dresser where she has set up her station of potions and poultices, and plucking up a vial of thin, translucent red liquid. She passes it across to Alistair, nodding that he should give it to Eda. He nods and uncorks the small bottle, pressing it to his wife’s lips. Almost instantly her breathing steadies and a soft pink returns to her cheeks. She’s still inordinately pale, but at least, to Alistair and Freddie’s relief, she is going to be alright.

Freddie unwraps the child slightly, “You were right, Eda, it’s a girl.” Eda’s lips quirk upward more until her face is set in a tired grin.

“I told you,” she whispers hoarsely.

Alistair chuckles and runs his hand through her hair again, “Of course you did. Always right, you are.” His eyes shift from his wife’s pale face to the red, screaming child in Freddie’s arms, “Look at her, Eda. She’s perfect.”

Eda blinks her eyes open slowly, squeezing her husband’s hand slightly as she takes in the sight of her little girl. Freddie crosses from the end of the bed to Eda’s side. She leans down and extends her arms to allow her cousin to take her child. She reaches out cautiously and takes the girl into her arms. Eda hushes her gently, rocking her slightly back and forth in her arms, “She’s beautiful.”

Freddie smiles and for the first time feels qualified to offer her cousin advice on being a mother, “Maybe she’d like to eat?”

Her cousin nods and pulls away her robe fully away from her breast. She cups the child’s head in her hand and guides it to her nipple. The babe’s hungry mouth latches on quickly, with very little extra positioning. Eda beams down at her, running her fingers through the flame-red hair contrasting brightly with Eda’s pale breast. “Hello, little one. I’m so glad you’re here,” she says with a soft smile. Alistair watches them with watery eyes.

He drops his head to kiss her exposed shoulder, “Maker’s breath… I didn’t know a person could be so small…” The hand holding Eda’s leaves hers in favour of brushing across the child’s wrinkled hand. Her hand unfolds and wraps around Alistair’s finger lightly, bringing it up, nearer to her mouth. “Eda, look,” he says in awe, “She’s so strong!” He chuckles lightly, and she joins him.

“Of course she is. She’s your daughter,” she says, leaning her head back to look into his eyes. His eyes, however, are trained on their child, a gleam of wonder brightening in his honey irises.

“I know, but… wow, you _made_ that!” he shakes his head with amazement. Eda chuckles softly, and Freddie lets out a short bark of laughter. Alistair is not perturbed, “Have you ever seen such a beautiful baby? I always thought babies looked rather like raisins at first, but she…”

Eda sighs against him, smiling down at the miracle in her arms. The babe is indeed tiny, as she had expected. But, Eda ensures as she cautiously counts her little, pruned up, blood-covered fingers and toes, she is perfect. Her small nose, now nestled against Eda’s pale breast, is upturned slightly, like Freddie’s and her own. It is hard to tell, what with the blood and white on her still birth-darkened skin, but Eda swears she can see a freckle or two. She trails her hand down the child’s back and down to her feet, which she grasps gently in one hand, “She’s stunning.”

Freddie bustles about the room, tossing linens into buckets and then working Eda’s belly to help the placenta release, “Have you thought of a name for her?”

Eda glances up from her daughter to her cousin, “Well, we’ve thought about—”

“—I was thinking Wynne,” Alistair cuts her off. Eda shakes her head, a small smile forming on her lips as he leans down and kisses her head.

“I told you,” she says, still tired and raspy from her screaming during the birth, “dear, that would just get too chaotic. Wynne practically lives with us in the summers! Well, at least she did when we knew where she was…”

He smiles, an insistent look in his eyes, “And we should honour her friendship and love!” Eda chuckles, shifting her gaze back to Freddie.

“We talked about Joanna, Aveline, or Mira.” Alistair huffs. Freddie gazes at them gently for a minute as Alistair looks back to their daughter. Dawn is just breaking.

Freddie smiles, watching the golden light surround the family, glistening in the babe’s still blood-matted hair. As if reading her mind, Eda takes the still moist towel and swipes it at her child’s hair, cleaning it as best as possible. She loses the latch on her mother’s teat, but rather than wailing, simply lays still with her eyes fluttered shut. Eda gazes at her and gently whispers to her daughter, “You couldn’t have gotten much. But I guess I should eat something before you do, really.”

Hawke smiles at the little girl, “Those are all lovely names. Do any of them fit her?”

Eda hums in contemplation, running her finger gently along the babe’s jaw and chin, “Perhaps. I’d like to wait for Christening Day to decide though.” Alistair rolls his eyes, and she shoots him a half-hearted glare, “You know it’s bad luck otherwise.”

“That’s just superstition, darling,” he scoffs, “Three days is such a long time to live without a name! What are we supposed to call her until then? ‘You there?’ ‘Baldie?’”

“She not bald,” Eda says softly and gently smacks his hand, “And I somehow doubt she’ll begrudge us three days without a name.” Her gaze darkens, “And besides, do you really want to tempt fate? After everything we did just to bring her here today?”

He sighs, shrugging as best he can with his world resting against his chest, “All right, fine. You win again. We can just call her ‘Baby Amell’ until Christening.” He gently tapped the baby’s nose. She brings a tiny hand up to cover her face, effectively pushing her father’s finger away from her nose. He chuckles, “Does that sound good for now, Baby Amell?”

She yawns, fingers splaying and then fisting quickly. He gazes at her with wonder, “Wow. Can I hold her?”

“Certainly,” Eda says, turning, kissing her husband on the cheek, and sliding out of his lap to give him space. She passes the drowsy girl into his embrace, carefully positioning them. She smiles when he takes her in his strong, sun-darkened arms. The baby fits there like a puzzle piece. He cradles her against his chest as Eda beams at her family, “Alistair, meet your daughter. Mind her head.” Alistair moves his large calloused hand up to cup the child’s head better.

He leans down over her until they are nearly nose to nose, “Hello, there. Aren’t you just the most beautiful thing in the world?” Eda smiles, leaning back against the pillows again as a final pain prompts her to dispose of the placenta. Freddie notices and hurries over to clean it up. Alistair gives his wife a concerned look when she grunts through the pain, but she smiles back at him after to reassure him.

Alistair returns his gaze to his daughter, “Well, besides your mum, of course. That’s her on the bed there, see?” He points over to Eda, turning his arms enough so that the child could face her. The girl’s eyes are closed peacefully now, and her chest is rising and falling in a rhythm that would suggest sleep. “And I,” he says gently, turning her back into his chest, “I have the pleasure of being your da.” He leans down and kisses her forehead softly, lightly brushing his cracked lips against her soft, wrinkled skin.

Eda sighs, propping herself up on her elbow to watch Alistair’s joy.

“And I’m here to love you and protect you for as long as I live,” he rocks her gently from side to side in his arms, “That’s a promise, Baby Amell.” Alistair places the girl onto the stretch of bed between them gently, wiping her off with the moist towel. Eda watches with a smile, her amber eyes drifting closed. When the child is sufficiently cleaned and dried by the sheets, Alistair lays down next to her, putting one arm across the small divide to rest on Eda’s waist. She scoots closer to him, wrapping her arms around the babe to bring her along. Once she is close enough, Alistair extends his neck to kiss Eda’s forehead, “You did beautifully, _mumma_.”

She chuckles sleepily, attempting to stifle a yawn while both arms are cradling their child, “Thank you, _da_. She’s wonderful, isn’t she?”

“The most amazing thing I could ever dream of, Eda. Perfect.” The pair fall asleep in the early dawn light as Hawke hovers in the room, cleaning up and checking on Eda’s bleeding. Much to her relief, she bleeds no more after the placenta is delivered. Freddie smiles and pulls the blanket up to Eda’s neck, careful to leave the baby’s head exposed to the room’s air as well. She smiles at her handiwork and quietly exits the room with the bucket of soiled linens in search of their water pump.


	27. Year 12 - Part 11

Eda wakes to the creaking of their door, and her arm tightens gently around the child at her side before she ever opens her eyes. When she does, however, her sleep clouded eyes land upon Freddie. Her back is turned. When Eda calls out, her voice is raspy, both from sleep and her shrieks from the early hours of the morning. “Freddie?” she croaks out in a hoarse whisper.

Her cousin whips around, silky black ponytail whipping from her back to over her shoulder. Eda attempts a smile as Hawke races back across the room, capturing Eda’s pale, sleep-warmed hand in her own, “Yes, I’m here! Do you need anything?” Eda noted the panic in both her cousin’s voice and her bright blue eyes.

She reluctantly removes one hand from her daughter’s bare back, no longer sticky from birth after her hasty sponge bath earlier that morning, to rub at her throat, “Could I… could I have some water?” Freddie practically pulls her hand from her throat and squeezes it, springing into action.

“Of course! I’ll be just a moment, don’t worry!” Eda’s smile curves upward slightly, dropping her eyes back to rest on the bare babe, lying asleep on the mattress, her arm wrapped around her. As Freddie rushes off in pursuit of the pump, Eda leans slightly from the bed, wincing in pain as her weight shifts, to reach for the knitted white blanket she had finished a week ago.

Lifting the babe gently, Eda tucks her into the blanket, tying her robe closed and resting her against her chest. The child does not wake, but only wriggles slightly, bringing her hand up to rest in front of her mouth. She smiles down fondly at her daughter, running a few fingers through her fine wisps of red hair, “You’ve got my hair.” Her voice is still raspy but is beginning to soften as she speaks to the sleeping infant. She lightly runs her finger along the child’s face, feeling her to ensure her reality, “And my nose. You’ve got your da’s lips though.” As her index finger grazes the child’s lips, she begins to purse her lips in and out, as if nursing, and Eda’s tired eyes light with maternal fondness. She shakes her head at the girl sleeping against her breast, “You have no idea how long we’ve been waiting for you.”

Freddie breaks Eda from her serenity with a, “Here you are, dear,” and a cup of water slammed into her open hand. The older woman puts her hands to her thighs, bending over to catch her breath. As almost an afterthought, when Eda is just placing the rim of the cup to her lips, Freddie advises, “Take it slow at first so you don’t get ill.”

Eda nods before tipping the cup back, letting the relatively cool water trickle past her cracked lips, across her dry tongue and mouth before swallowing it. She takes another sip before the first drops enter her empty stomach, and she reels, leaning against the pillows. Freddie barely manages to stifle her chuckle when Eda says, “You weren’t kidding.”

“Don’t worry,” she says, her smile full of the experience of motherhood Eda had once been so jealous of, “I did the same thing.” She chuckles a bit louder this time, “Only I didn’t keep my cookies down, if you know what I mean. Huge mess.” Her softer demeanor returns slowly, as if she has reminded herself of her role at the moment. _Healer_ , Eda thinks with a smirk to herself, amused at the turn of events. “But the nausea will pass in a few hours.” _Who had taught her that? Her midwives? Experience? Or was that another remnant of Anders in her memory?_

“Thank the Maker,” Eda says, shaking herself slightly and taking another tiny sip from the cup. She closes her eyes for a beat, waiting for the wave of nausea. When one does not come, she sighs in relief and takes another, longer drink of what, right now, truly feels like the life-giving substance it is. She clears her throat gently, eliminating most of the hoarse sound from her voice, “How long have I been asleep?”

“Not as long as you probably needed,” Freddie says, sitting cautiously on the edge of the bed, careful to avoid Eda’s legs. She casually tucks one foot under the other leg, turning to face her cousin, “You three conked out just after dawn, and it’s an hour or two past high noon now.”

Eda lets one hand leave her child’s back to scratch at the back of her neck. It has mostly dried from the exertion and sweat, but her hair is still stuck to it unpleasantly. _A bath will be nice as soon as I’m able_. “Was it that long?” she asks, the hand on her daughter raising to brush through the girl’s hair once again.

Freddie smiled, nodding, “Ella and I went into the city and back while you were out.”

She whets her lips and lets out a low whistle, shaking her head, “Amazing. I don’t feel nearly as rested as I should be after such a long nap.”

“Well,” Freddie says, standing back up from the bed and crossing to her makeshift medical station on their dresser, “You did expend a hell of a lot of energy last night. And you lost a good bit of blood.”. She ponders the array of vials and bottles for a moment before plucking up a small bottle with a pale, shimmering liquid in it from the cache. She uncorks the bottle and the most unpleasant smell since darkspawn fills the room. It is sweet. Too sweet, like fermenting berries long before they are rotted enough for alcohol, like Irene, the woman who tends to Vigil’s Keep’s servant finances, when she wears those too floral, too powerful perfumes. Her nose wrinkles at the smell and at the memory of the less than pleasant woman. Hawke sits back on the edge of the bed and passes a spoon full of the pearlescent liquid to Eda, “Don’t worry, it tastes worse than it smells.”

Eda grimaces, “Wonderful. What is that swill?” Hawke lets out a bark of laughter that surprises Eda slightly. She carefully balances the spoon in one hand, eyeing it warily.

“Andraste’s ass, Eda,” Freddie laughs, “aren’t you supposed to be a healer? I thought you knew all the ins and outs of potion-making.” Eda pouts slightly and sticks out her tongue at her cousin.

She shrugs gently, so as to not disturb her daughter, “Must be something indigenous to the Free Marches.” Freddie laughs a good-natured laugh.

“I’m just dicking with you. This is one that Anders invented.” Eda is surprised to notice that Hawke does not falter when mentioning him as she once did. “I just gave the recipe to the healer in Hightown. It’s to help replace blood volume after a massive injury.” Eda nods her head a bit to the side, considering the spoon before downing the liquid as quickly as its viciousness allows. “Or in your case,” Freddie says with a smirk, “a _wildly_ traumatic childbirth.” Her cousin’s eyes flit down the babe’s wispy red hair, an air of fondness about her that Eda hardly expects. _Same as with me when I first saw Ella_ , she reminds herself. The two women are less different than they appear.

“Not even a day old,” Freddie tsks, “and that little girl right there is a drama queen already.”

Eda laughs softly before wincing and clutching at her lower belly. She groans, “That’s just not fair.” Her face softens as the worse of the sharp pain passes, “I’m not even allowed to laugh at a joke?”

Freddie chuckles, “If it makes you feel any better, it wasn’t a particularly _good_ joke.” Eda rolls her eyes and picks up the spoon where she’s dropped it against herself at the stab of pain. She passes it back across to Freddie before looking around the room curiously. Her dear, sweet, doting husband is nowhere to be seen. Eda is surprised.

“Speaking of jokes,” she says, reaching once again for the cup of water and taking a deep drink from it, “where is that husband of mine?” She swishes the water around her mouth for a moment washing the sickeningly sweet taste of overripe fruit the draught has left sticking to her tongue.

Freddie gazes out the window with a shrug, “Last time I checked, Ella was babysitting him in the back garden.”

Eda smiles and lets out a soft breath of air, the closest thing she can manage to a laugh that does not jolt her, “Maker knows he needs it.” She brushes her fingers across the child’s hand, curled close to her face. The fingers clutch into a tighter fist. Eda beams, a soft pink blush slowly returning to her pale cheeks. To finally hold a child, her own child, in her arms after so many years without…

Holding Ella had felt strange at first, when the Amells first arrived in Kirkwall nearly five years ago. To hold a child that was technically her own flesh and blood but so clearly not her own was painful, and yet, Ella gave her hope. Holding Garrick had felt odd too. He was much smaller than Ella had been, whether from being born too early or from being the child of an elven mother, Eda could not be sure. His hair was thick and dark where Ella’s had been thin and light. For two very different, completely unrelated children, it is amusing that they both have the same sky-blue eyes.

She cannot expect the same from the little girl she holds now. Though her eyes will remain the same, neutral, infantile grey for months, the chance of her having blue eyes of any sort seems impossible. Her hair is somewhere in between Garrick’s and Ella’s in both tonality and thickness. Red. Her red that seems almost foreign after her near twenty years of silvery white. She traces her fingers through her wispy hair again.

The child’s face scrunches up, and her eyes blink open. She lets out a short, sharp cry, followed by a whimper, as she wriggles slightly in her mother’s arms. Eda smiles down at the girl rooting for her breast. “Well, look who’s finally awake,” she says, cupping her breast in one hand and the child’s head in the other, bringing her daughter’s lips to her nipple. She laches on without much struggle; her only problem is the fisted hand curled so close to her mouth that Eda has to move it before the babe has enough room to press her face to her mother’s breast.

“None too happy about it either,” Freddie laughs softly as the girl pushes her hand between her mouth and Eda’s teat again. Eda takes her fist between two fingers and gently pulls it away again, tucking her daughter’s hand into the thin knit, white blanket and pulling it tighter around her. The child attempts to move her hand again, but with her preoccupation with nursing and the tightly wrapped blanket, she is unable to get it free again. Once the baby is suckling contentedly at her mother’s breast, Freddie laughs again, “She’s got quite the set of pipes.”

Eda hums happily, “Maybe that means she’ll be a singer.” She watches the child’s mouth purse against her, mesmerized, “I think I remember Mother saying something like that about babies with loud cries.” She hums, furrowing her brows, “At least, I think it was Mother…?” Her own childhood had been happy, from what she could remember. The Amell household was rich and warm, but she had been alone quite often, being the only child in the house. With Freddie and the twins in Ferelden with her Aunt Leandra and Uncle Malcolm, Eda had spent much of her younger years in the library, something that barely changed when she was sent off to Kinloch Hold, the Circle where she had spent eleven years of her life, at age ten.

Soon, memories of her parents faded, Irving replacing both her mother and father in her eyes. Jowan became more like a sibling than anything she had ever had. She had even known Anders there. He was quite a bit older than her, but that did not stop the older boy from flirting with her. He had called her a “foxy ginger”, she remembered with a smirk, long before she had gotten her tattoos. It is not a wonder that he barely recognized her when she recruited him for the Grey Wardens.

Eda is broken from her memories by the squealing sounds of laughter breaking through the open window. Freddie looks back to Eda, noticing the sounds as well, “Do you want me to fetch Alistair? He’ll probably be eager to see you, now that you’re both awake.”

“Would you mind? I’d love to see him, now that I’m fully conscious and not in blinding agony,” she says, a small smile tugging at her lips in amusement.

Freddie jumps up from the bed, “Not at all! I’ll bring Ella too. She’s got a present for you, and she’s dying to meet her baby cousin.” Eda beams at the thought of the mischievous but kind child.

“Oh, yes, bring in the little dear!” She straightens her back against the mound of pillows and pulls her daughter’s blanket up to cover the girl’s face and Eda’s breast. Freddie grins and zooms out the door. As soon as her cousin is out of the room, Eda attempts to stretch her legs slightly, her calves tingling from sitting in the same position for too long. She is able to stretch them slightly before the stretching causes her hips to shift, and she hisses in pain. Breathing deep to steady herself, Eda pulls the quilt up higher over her waist. As she does, the child releases from around her breast and sighs, laying back in her mother’s arms.

Eda cradles her head and brings her up to rest on her shoulder. She gently pats the baby’s back until she releases a small bubble of gas just in time for Alistair and Ella to come crashing into the room. The blonde girl has a bouquet of blue cornflowers tight in her grasp. She hops up onto the bed, and Eda presses her lips together to stifle a wince as the mattress bounces slightly. Ella extends her hand, presenting the flowers to her aunt. “Oh, are these for me?” Eda asks with a smile, taking the flowers and leaning down to smell them. The smell is light, but Eda looks forward to drying the petals in a few days to use in her teas and to grind for future use in poultices and tinctures. Not that she intends to tell Ella how excited she is to dry out the pretty bouquet she collected, “Thank you so much, sweetheart, they’re lovely!” She passes the clutch of flowers to Alistair who dutifully puts them into a pewter vase resting beside Freddie’s medical stash on the dresser.

Alistair then moves to sit beside his wife, watching as she rests the child back into her arms, rocking her back and forth gently. Her eyes slide closed as Ella peers at her cousin, her nose scrunching up as she makes a face, “He’s so… _pink_.”

Eda and Alistair both laugh softly, Alistair louder than his wife. “ _She,_ ” Eda corrects gently, “just needs a bath is all.” Ella hums curiously and watches the baby as her chest rises and falls. Her mother enters the room, resting a hand against the wall.

“Speaking of baths, do you think you could stand being moved to the chair for a moment, so I can change the bedding? You’ll be much more comfortable with clean sheets,” Freddie asks. Eda frets her lip under her teeth slightly at the thought of moving but unwilling to appear in any less than perfect condition to Ella, she pushes the thought of pain from her mind.

She shifts slightly, using Alistair’s arm as an anchor, attempting to move to the edge of the bed. Eda swallows a groan, furrowing her brows as the pain rips through her lower body. “Yes, I think so,” she says through gritted teeth.

Alistair pulls her hand away from his arm and gently forces her back against the pillows, “Oh, no you don’t.” His warm gaze is disapproving. Freddie makes a clucking sound from the doorway.

“I didn’t say _you_ were moving yourself. No exertion, remember?” Freddie asks with pointedly raised eyebrows. “Healer’s orders.”

Eda groans at her cousin, leaning back into the pillows with a huff, “ _I’m_ the healer around here, and I think I know—”

“ _Healer’s orders!_ ” Hawke squawks, crossing her arms across her chest. Eda tosses her head back against the pillows with another groan. Alistair, however, takes his chance to fit one arm under his wife’s knees, the other behind her back, and hoist her into the air. Eda clutches tightly to her child at the shock of movement, gasping both at the surprise and the slight pain the jerk upward causes.

She composes herself and attempts to protest, “This is so unnecessary! I’m perfectly capable of walking!” Her husband gives her an unimpressed look before shifting his weight just enough for her to shift in his arms.

“Are you now?” he asks as she hisses in pain. His voice softens as she shows her pain, “That’s what I thought. Come on, you, let’s go show the little one her new room.”

Eda sighs, leaning into his chest, “Fine.” He presses a kiss to her cheek, and she beams. Her eyes drop to the bundle in her arms as he carries them out of the room and across to the small room fitted with only a rocking chair, a short dresser, and a well-crafted cradle. The bed is made of walnut wood with the Grey Warden crest carved into the head. It is filled to the brim with knitted blankets and furs and is incredibly inviting.

Alistair lowers her into the rocking chair. She winces on impact with the hard wood, sitting on something less soft than their bed for the first time in nearly two months, and Alistair leans down to press a kiss to her forehead, “Sorry, love, are you okay? I didn’t mean to jostle you.”

“I’m alright,” she assures him, leaning up to catch his lips against her own. He returns the soft peck and swipes her hair away from her face before their daughter lets out a small whimper. Alistair pulls away quickly, amber eyes filling with worry as he drops to his knees in front of his wife. The infant squirms slightly, curls her hands together in front of her mouth, and lies still again. He sighs in relief, standing back up and crossing the room to where something rests on the dresser.

She quirks her eyebrow in question as Alistair turns and opens a box to her. He grins, bringing it closer for her to inspect the contents, “Hawke bought it for her. Isn’t it wonderful?”

Eda peers down into the box full of wood shavings and is greeted with the sight of three intricately carved gryphons hanging from a wooden disk by dark blue ribbons tied through holes in each of the beast’s wingtips. Her mouth drops open and one hand slips from its place under her daughter so that she can run her finger along the wing of one of the creatures. “It’s beautiful,” she whispers. Her eyes flit back up to her husband’s, “Could you put it up?”

He shrugs, “Sure.” He leaves the room quickly and returns with a box of long nails and a hammer. Eda watches, rocking back and forth in the chair, as her husband pushes the cradle out of the way, standing on his toes to knock a nail into the ceiling. A nail breaks, and he swears, reaching back down to the dresser to grab another.

He crosses back across the room to pull his daughter into his arms. Eda smiles as he takes her, leaning down to her to brush his nose against her tiny one. She crosses her hands in her lap as he puts the infant down into the padded cradle, tucking the furs around her to keep her laid on her side. A soft shuffle outside prompts Eda to call out, “Freddie, did you bring this?”

Her cousin pops her head into the nursery, and she beams to see Eda gesturing at the wooden mobile. Hawke smirks, the bags under her eyes belying her sleep deprivation from the previous tedious night, “I might have.” She crosses into the room, Ella on her heels. While she comes to rest her arm against the back of the rocking chair, her daughter goes further into the room, kneeling down to peer into the cradle, watching her baby cousin sleep.

“It’s just like the one from Ella’s nursery, isn’t it?” Eda asks, running her hand across the wooden creatures, brushing through the soft wood shavings. At the mention of her name, Ella’s head pops up for a moment before turning her gaze back to the baby. She reaches out to pat the child’s shoulder lightly, rocking the cradle back and forth with her free hand.

Freddie hums in affirmative, “Same artisan. I thought the gryphons would be a nice touch, considering…” She gestures vaguely back and forth between Eda, Alistair, and the carved crest on the baby’s cradle.

“It’s lovely, Freddie,” Eda says, putting her hand on Freddie’s arm, “I can’t thank you enough.” She turns to look her cousin directly in the eyes, “And I don’t just mean for the mobile. If you hadn’t been here—”

Freddie cuts her off, “Let me stop you right there.” Eda falters, shrugging and patting her arm. “First off, you don’t have to thank me for anything. You’re family, and that’s that. Second, I _was_ here, and that’s what counts.” She shoots a look between the sleeping child that Ella is still gazing at with warmth and curiosity, “The baby is healthy, you’re healthy,” Eda cocks her head to the side with a sound of noncommittal. Hawke’s sharp eyes warn her against saying any more, “and we should all thank the Maker for that.”

“Of course, but I still—”

She shakes her head, “The best thing you can do to thank me is to take care of that little girl.” She points over to the cradle. Alistair beams back at his daughter, swinging and missing the nail, slamming the head of his hammer into the wooden ceiling. Freddie winces at the noise.

Alistair swears under his breath and looks back to Eda, “I think we can handle that much, don’t you darling?” He slams the hammer onto the nail again, and the thin shard of iron snaps in half. He pulls it from the ceiling and tosses it across the room, aiming at the dresser. It bounces off slightly and skitters along the floor.

“Yes,” Eda says softly, gazing down into the cradle where her miracle lies, swaddled by furs, “yes, I think we can.”


	28. Year 12 - Part 12

Eda is lying on her side, watching her daughter sleep in the cradle Alistair has moved into their room. _Why I ever thought I could sleep without her in the same room is beyond me,_ Eda thinks, reaching down slightly to rock the cradle from side to side. There is a soft knock at the door, followed by Alistair’s voice calling, “Can I come in? I thought you might like a little to eat.”

She smiles and leans back to a half-propped position, “Come in.” He opens the door, carrying a small tray of food: two nearly burnt pieces of toast, a bowl of overcooked stew, and three sliced figs all served with a rather large slab of goat cheese. Who would her husband be if he did not provide cheese with every meal? “Thought you might want some dinner. Lunch?” He looks up at the ceiling, puzzled slightly about what to call the meal.

He crosses to the bed and leans down, kissing his wife’s head and placing the wooden tray in her lap. She turns her head to kiss his jaw, “Thank you, love. It looks wonderful.” She takes the spoon to her mouth, savoring the taste of food for the first time in twenty-four hours. She hums with satisfaction, squishing a mushy potato between her tongue and teeth before chewing and swallowing it along with the meat and other vegetables in the stew. “It’s incredible, Alistair,” she says, driving her spoon back into the bowl for another taste.

Alistair chuckles softly, patting her knee as he rocks the cradle back and forth with his foot, “Good to see that warden appetite is back!” He stares down at his daughter. She is laid out on her stomach on the cotton sheet of the cradle mattress, a thin, light blue knitted blanket slung across her bare backside. Looking back up to his wife, now nearly halfway through the bowl of stew, dipping her toast into it, he asks, “Shouldn’t we put something on her? It isn’t right for her to just go nude.”

Eda laughs softly, carefully, putting the piece of bread back into her bowl, “She isn’t even a day old. I don’t think we can call this ‘indecent’.” He shrugs with an agreeing smile on his lips.

“Still,” he starts, leaning down and brushing over her fair-skinned shoulders with his large calloused fingers, “you’ve made her so many things. It’d be a waste for her to go naked while they sit folded in her drawers.”

She finishes the toast with a crunch, taking care to lean over the tray to keep the crumbs from falling into their bed, “Fair point. When I finish this, I’ll go get some cloths and a pin. And one of the dresses.”

Alistair puts his hand on her knee, rubbing it gently, “I can do that. Just eat; I’ll be right back.” She begins to call out to him, but he is out of the room and plodding down to the babe’s nursery before Eda can stop him. She sighs and looks down at her child, shaking her head, fond smile adorning her lips, “What are we going to do with that da of yours? Fawning over us? Tsk, tsk.” The child sleeps on, her round cheek pressed into the bed. Her lips purse rhythmically, and her hand fists in the swaddling. Without taking her eyes off the child who still does not seem real, Eda takes a piece of fig and a dab of cheese between her fingers and brings it to her mouth. She nearly moans around the food; they rarely choose to spend their silvers on such expensive fruits, relying exclusively on their own tiny but growing grove of fruit trees for anything like that.

As if for the first time since the girl’s birth, Eda’s mind turns to the pear tree and their lost child. Where this thought would normally sour her mood, Eda’s face softens as the thought of him, the little boy who would be Ella’s age now. He would be overjoyed to meet his little sister, as he had been in so many dreams. This little girl would grow up the oldest, _or only_ , Eda has to remind herself, child in the family. But there is no question in her mind that any child she and Alistair have will know about the pear tree, why it was planted.

She is careful not to spill the remaining stew as she turns to gaze out the window at the tree now nearing her own height. The warm summer wind blows through the branches, and they wave toward the window. Eda waves back with a small undulation of her fingers and softly says, “You have a little sister.” The wind rushes again, causing the entire tree to dance in the breeze. She beams as it does so.

The door creaks back open, and she spins back around, catching the soup bowl as an afterthought. Alistair opens the door. He has his arms full of knitted and stitched together cotton dresses and an array of thick cloths with long, clasping pins already stuck through them. Eda cannot help but let out a short laugh followed by a grimace and low groan. Alistair raises his eyebrows, “Are you alright?”

“I just shouldn’t have laughed. It still hurts to do anything like that,” she says, moving her free hand to rub her lower belly.

“Well, it's only been about half a day,” he says, coming across the room and laying the child’s clothing onto their bed. “I don’t think women heal that fast.”

She smiles and rolls her eyes, “You’re right. It usually takes a few days before they’re anywhere near normal. Longer if the delivery was rough.”

“Which yours was.”

“Which mine was,” she affirms, dipping the other slice of bread into the bowl of stew and taking a bite of it. She finishes her dinner in quiet as Alistair thumbs through the soft garments.

As she puts the final bite of fig and cheese into her mouth, he begins, “So, which one do you think?” He holds up two cotton dresses. One is white with yellow stitching around the neck and hem. The other is olive green with long sleeves. Eda smiles, watching Alistair’s eyes flit between her own, the child in the cradle, and the two articles of clothing.

“Which one do you like? She’ll end up wearing all of them, I’m sure,” she says with a light chuckle, placing the board to the side to lean up toward him. He hums contemplatively.

He puts down the white dress and holds up the olive, “I think it will look nice with her hair.” He places the dress across his knee for a moment, leaning down to gently pull the swaddled child from the cradle. She struggles against him for a moment before settling back in his arms. He brushes his thumb across her cheek, and she reacts by quirking a side of her lip up as her nose scrunches. Alistair watches her, awestruck as Eda watches them both. _Fifteen years ago, I would have never even dreamed of this. I was supposed to learn and practice and be alone forever._ And for the first time in her life, she thanks the Maker for the Blight. Because, without the Blight, her life would be studies of magic and fear of possession. Instead, it is full of light, and happiness, and joy.

She is broken from her silent prayer by the babe’s cries as Alistair unwraps her from the blanket. The first cries are followed by swift apologies by her father, “I’m sorry. Oh, I know it’s cold. This is Ferelden; you’re going to get used to that. Sorry, my love, but you’re damp. Let’s get you covered up, shall we?”

Eda watches fondly as Alistair fumbles around, attempting dry off the child before trying to wrap the thick cotton cloth around the infant’s waist and legs to keep her from soiling the blankets. He manages to get a functional wrap around her with Eda’s soft suggestions of “around her waist and through” and “do that part again”. He stabs the pin through, consequently stabbing himself in the forefinger. Alistair brings his finger up to his lips to suck at it before trying again to pin the child’s nappy. He manages to get it through and clasped on the third try. Their daughter’s cries do not stop when she’s properly diapered.

Alistair’s eyes blow wider with each subsequent cry of the infant, hands beginning to tremble. His gaze flickers between Eda’s face and that of his daughter, panic obvious in his amber eyes. Eda leans forward, placing the wooden tray to the side and holds her arms out to her husband, “I can take her if you want. She may want to nurse; I haven’t really been able to supply much yet.”

He nods quickly and passes the girl across to his wife. Her body is growing redder with each wail as Eda quickly pulls aside her robe and cups her breast in one hand, leading the child to it. Instead of latching onto the teat, the babe continues to cry, fisting her hands up and putting them to her face. Eda tries to interest her in nursing again, but the child is clearly uninterested. Now she is visibly panicking as well. Alistair leans down quickly and grabs a fur blanket, tossing it across his wife and child, letting out a quick, “Maybe she’s cold,” as he does so.

Eda shrugs quickly, wrapping the blanket around the nearly naked child. Her whimpers slow until the bright red flush is gone from her skin, and she turns to root around for her mother’s breast. She sighs in relief, helping her daughter nurse. Alistair’s breathing returns to normal as he lets out a short laugh, “That’s a lot of fuss for being cold, little one. You’re a Ferelden, after all.”

“Ah, but she doesn’t know that yet,” Eda says with a smile down to her daughter, also having regulated her breathing; it would be difficult for their daughter to feed if her chest was heaving.

He leans forward, running his hand through the baby’s hair as gently as possible, his large hand covering her entire head, “I suppose not. What are we going to do with you?” His voice is kind and laughing as he half-scolds the child. His gaze turns back to his wife, “Were you a cold-natured child? I mean, the Free Marches are warmer than Ferelden.”

“I don’t think so,” Eda says thoughtfully, “I don’t really remember a whole lot about my childhood. I loved my parents and Freddie, and we lived in the Amell estate, but beyond that, I don’t remember frolicking around in Kirkwall’s Hightown or anything of the sort. Most of my pivotal years were spent in Kinloch.”

His eyes cast down slightly, not quite looking at either of his girls, “That makes sense. I spent those important years training to be a templar, but I guess we both turned out all right.” She chuckles. His eyes flicker back up to his wife’s. They’re duller than usual with dark circles under them. She looks older than he expects. But at the same time, she looks youthful, a small smile curving upward, her tattooed cheeks blushed light pink. The mere fact that she has a child, _their child_ , in her arms, against her breast, is enough to make her look like as young as she did when they first met: two chantry-raised, isolated young adults saving the world with only the other to share in the pain of being a Grey Warden. One of them should have died that night with the archdemon, but because of Morrigan, they have this. Thanks to that one unpleasant night, he is able to watch as his wife holds their child. He has Morrigan to thank for his whole world. If he ever sees her again, which he doubts, he will.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a solid endpoint if you want to stop here. I don't really know if I will be able to get to the actual finishing point. I hope you enjoyed it!


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